


Domino Effect

by Xenobia



Series: Modern Wyndrah [4]
Category: Wyndrah - Fandom
Genre: Action, Adventure, F/M, Graphic Sex, Graphic Violence, Het, M/M, Mpreg, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 89,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobia/pseuds/Xenobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some time after the events of "Soul of Glass", Idrisar Blackbird finds himself embroiled in yet another conflict in Zarn.  Standing alone against odds that would make most people weak in the knees, he fights to save a friend and perhaps to save himself as well.  New alliances are made and changes occur on Wyndrah that nobody could foresee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

_Copyright © C.R. Bostic, 2013, 2014_

 

 

* * *

Idrisar noticed the tired shadows around his mate’s eyes. With the recent bombings in the north quadrant of Valkyrie Falls, Ammiteo had his hands full. Idrisar had considered putting in his request for a return to active duty, but the Ulvari Director—his spouse—talked him out of it. For the past three and a half years, Idrisar had worked as the top instructor to all aspiring agents in their branch. Once they passed their initial training at the academy, those desiring transfer to the VF Alliance HQ were sent in as cadets, to be further trained by Idrisar himself and a small selection of other Ulvari veterans. Idrisar’s hours as an instructor were much more reasonable than they’d been as a field agent. He could spend more time at home with their child, given he only worked four days per week. Ammiteo still ran the department for their guild, collaborating with the Director of the Knights Order, Valerie Stevenson. She’d taken over after Kent, and she’d proven herself quite capable.

However, when it came to Lashran affairs, Ammiteo handled the brunt of it. There was talk of civil war brewing in Nandar, and desperate asylum seekers came by the boatloads with each given day. Half of which were systematically deported back to where they came from, lacking the paperwork and basic immunizations required to qualify for sanctuary.  The civil unrest in Nandar naturally carried over to other realms, and Rhuidhim was taking in as many asylum seekers as possible. Zarn, however, remained strictly outside the scope of politics concerning their lashran brethren. The ruling council on the Chalice refused to take part in the growing conflict, and the surrounding three islands had issues of their own.

That left the human controlled continents of Ocathia and Avras to take in the refugees that Rhuidhim couldn’t accommodate. The human population was less than friendly to them, considering that their politics had bled into the core culture and was now causing strife. Lashran terrorists and their supporters were striking out at all Nandar operated facilities on Avras. It was even worse in Vartros—the capitol of Nandar.

And it was all taking such a _heavy_ toll on one ambitious, honorable sire with collar-length, spiked silver-gold hair, chiseled features and brooding purple eyes. Idrisar sighed as he set down the paperwork on Ammiteo’s desk, and he looked him in the eye as he raised his gaze to him.

"You’ve left me no choice," said the lifebearer in a stern, even tone, "I’m pulling rank as your spouse and demanding that you take the rest of the day off."

Ammiteo gave him a humorless, lame attempt at a smirk. “I have too much paperwork.”

"That’s why you have a personal assistant," reminded Idrisar. He leaned over the desk, tapping his fingertips against the wood as he stared the younger lashran down with determined blue eyes. "Ceindar can do most of that for you, beloved. I’ve got to pick our son up from daycare in ten minutes, and I expect you to join us at the house in no less than twenty. We’ll order a pizza, get Seheret down for bed and enjoy a sappy old film together before bed."

Ammiteo started to smile. “It sounds like you have the evening all planned out.”

Idrisar nodded, favoring him with his subtle, coy smirk. A dark lock of hair fell over his left eye with the motion, and he pushed it aside absently. “I do. We haven’t had much time for each other, family nights aside. I think you should call it an early day and enjoy some ‘couple time’ with me after dinner.”

He winked—a habit he’d picked up from the guild lord of Oricus—and he reached across the desk to lay a deceptively slim, Mokalor-bedecked hand over Ammiteo’s bigger one. “Humor me.”

Ammiteo looked down at the hand resting atop his, and he nodded. “All right. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

Idrisar smiled at him and gave his hand a squeeze before retracting it. “I look forward to it, my Ammiteo.”

 

 

* * *

Ammiteo was smiling as he drove out of the parking garage. He and Idrisar really hadn’t had enough time for each other, lately. He yawned with exhaustion and he pointedly shook it off, determined to take advantage of an opportunity that had become so rare for him. He checked both ways before pulling into traffic, and he fought another yawn as he began to drive home. They had family nights, and on the rare day off, he spent all of his time with his spouse and child. Still, keeping up with a three year old sire left them both exhausted, and due to that and work, the romantic moments between he and Idrisar had grown further between and fewer.

Ammiteo thought of his bondmate’s silken, bronzed skin, his plush lips, his dark hair, and that incredibly nubile and flexible body of his. The prospect of worshiping it all again with his hands and lips was distracting…but his exhaustion proved to be his downfall.

It was a simple thing, really. He could have easily avoided it, had he been awake enough to take in his surroundings. As it was, Ammiteo Blackbird was so dull-witted with sleep deprivation and thoughts of his mate that he didn’t notice the color of the traffic light as he drove beneath it.

 

 

* * *

Zevian reached blindly for the telephone by his bed. “Saber,” he croaked, hating himself for failing to silence the device before retiring for the night.

"Zevian?"

His heart predictably skipped a beat at the sound of that much-missed voice. “Blackbird? That you?” He glanced at the clock. “You know it’s after two in the morning here, right?”

"Yes, and I’m sorry," answered the dull, aching voice on the other line, "but…I need you."

Still muzzy-headed with sleep, Zevian glanced over at the mussed splendor of his bed companion. Azurel stirred slightly and murmured an inquiry over who it was. Zevian patted his rump and got up.

"Business call, gorgeous," he excused to the sleepy dancer, "I’ll be back."

He carried the phone out of the bedroom with him, absently dragging his robe on to cover up his nudity. When the door was shut behind him, he spoke into the phone again in a low voice. “What’s going on, Idrisar?”

"It’s…it’s Ammiteo," answered the Ulvari in a shaken, uncharacteristic voice. "There’s been an accident."

 

 

* * *

The guild lord of Oricus was on a plane for Avras within an hour after receiving his phone call. Azurel went with him and when they finally arrived in Valkyrie Falls and made it to the hospital, it was nearly sundown of the next day. Zevian left all of his weapons save those he could completely conceal from detection in the car with his two associates, and then he and his lover entered the hospital. They hurried to the elevator to the critical care ward and Zevian told the receptionist that they were expected by Agent Blackbird. She checked the computer and gave them the room number.

"Thank you," said the guild lord absently as he put an arm around Azurel and left. They found Agent Blackbird dozing in the visitor’s recliner when they quietly entered the room, and the dark circles under his eyes left little doubt that he’d gotten little to no rest since this happened. Ammiteo lay unmoving on the hospital bed, hooked up to life support. The faint marks of what must have been terrible lacerations were still visible on his chiseled features, lending testament to the severity of the car accident.

Zevian spared a glance at his companion, and Azurel gave him an encouraging nod and stepped back, giving him room to go to Idrisar. The guild lord’s aqua gaze softened on his sleeping friend as he approached him, and he was loathe to wake him up.

"Idrisar," he murmured anyway, gently shaking him.

 

 

* * *

Idrisar heard the soft, familiar masculine voice calling his name, and he jerked out of his troubled rest to look up at the welcome sight of the handsome rogue he’d somehow forged a bond of friendship with, over the years. “Zevian?” He saw the comely dancer with the hip-length lavender, black-tipped hair standing behind him, watching quietly with gently concerned ruby eyes. “And Azurel…when did you get here?”

"Just a moment ago," answered Zevian. He squatted down so that he was eye-level with him, and he took Idrisar’s hands. He jerked his chin in Ammiteo’s direction. "So how did this happen, Blackbird?"

Idrisar glanced at his comatose mate with aching, pale blue eyes, and he shook his head. “I’m not sure. He was on his way home from working a half day. I knew he was exhausted from overtime and I…I made him take the rest of the day off to spend it with me and our son. He…must have dozed off at the wheel. If I hadn’t insisted on him coming home—”

"It might have happened anyway," interrupted Zevian with a frown. "Don’t even try to do that to yourself, babe. He’d have been even more exhausted and less alert if he’d worked a full day, so maybe going home early saved his ass. If he’d gone any later, it might have been worse than this and I could be coming to his funeral right now, instead of his hospital room."

"Where’s the little one?" Azurel inquired softly, looking around.

"With his Uncle Sefon’s family," replied Idrisar. "They came and got him this morning when I asked if they would take care of him while his sire is in the hospital. He needs to be around other children; he’s too young to understand what’s going on and I don’t want him getting frightened or upset while we wait to…to see if Ammiteo will…" He swallowed and looked down, unable to finish.

Zevian gave his hands a squeeze. “You did the right thing, kid. Just take a deep breath, okay? Your man’s not gone yet. The lady up front told me he’s stable, and he’s a strong cat. He’s going to pull out of it.”

"You can’t know that," sighed Idrisar, looking up again to reveal the glisten of unshed tears. "I told myself the same thing with my first spouse, but…" He shook his head and compressed his lips, sniffing. "Zevian, I need you to do something for me. I could have requested it of Agent Glaive, or any other Spirit Singer, but I know you’re more willing to bend the rules than any of them."

Zevian was suddenly wary, sensing a dangerous request coming. “Glaive’s not exactly on the straight and narrow either,” he said with a smirk, trying not to allow his unease to show. “And the guy respects you and has more experience than I do.”

_~And he could probably take it if you hated him forever for failing to do whatever it is you’re about to ask me to do, baby.~_

"I thought of asking him first," sighed Idrisar, "and sparing you the long trip, but I’m selfish. There was a chance that even Glaive would decline a request like this, and I wasn’t willing to take it. You helped me when I was under Tsyther’s thrall, so I know you have it in you to help Ammiteo. I want you to find his spirit and guide it back to his body, Zevian. Please, do this and I’ll never ask another favor of you again."

A chill went down Zevian’s spine; and he wasn’t one to get easily rattled. “Why would I need to do that, sweetheart? He’s stable.”

"His _body_ is stable,” corrected Idrisar huskily, “but he’s been declared brain dead. There’s almost _no_ chance he’ll make it out of this on his own. Have you ever heard of someone with brain death coming back, Saber?”

Zevian blinked, a little surprised. “Well, not recently, but there’s been a few rare cases I’ve heard about. Damn, they didn’t tell me that part. Are they sure?”

"They’re positive," answered the Ulvari agent. He looked over at his oblivious mate again, and Zevian could tell that Idrisar was holding on by a thread. He was a very strong willed individual, but this could prove to be his breaking point. He’d already lost one spouse to disease and death…he’d already watched helplessly as he withered and died before his eyes, unable to do anything for him.

It was easy for Zevian to empathize with his feelings, and understand why he was asking this of him. He hated being the one in this position, but he found it impossible to refuse him. Still, he needed to make sure that Idrisar knew what it was he was asking of him, before he meddled with life and death.

"Idrisar, look at me."

The agent obeyed, his lovely eyes quietly desperate and hopeful. Zevian released one of his hands to reach out and stroke his soft, dark hair. “You know what you’re asking me to do, right? If he’s brain dead and his soul has left his body, there’s barely a chance in hell I can find it and bring it back. Even if I do and he wakes up, he’ll probably have brain damage. I’m no doctor, but I know what happens when someone’s brain shuts off for too long.”

"But there’s a chance he could be okay," said Idrisar softly.

"That’s a hell of a gamble to take," sighed the guild lord. "Are you sure you’re willing to spend the rest of your life with him wiping drool off his face and changing adult diapers for him, because that’s what kind of future you’re looking at if I pull him back and he can’t recover."

Idrisar wavered, his eyes going to Ammiteo’s still form again. “I…I…”

Aching for him, Zevian rose and kissed him on the crown of his head, before standing at full height. “Why don’t you think about it for a while? Azurel and I will go and get something to eat and check into our hotel, and then I’ll come back for your answer. I know you’ll put some serious thought into it, so I won’t bother reminding you to.”

Idrisar nodded mechanically. “All right. Go and get settled, and I’ll have my answer for you when you get back.”

 

 

* * *

"Are you going to go through with this?" Azurel watched his lover curiously as he asked the question and bit into his sandwich. He felt for Idrisar; he really did…but it sounded like a dangerous thing he was asking of Zevian. On the other hand, he knew how the guild lord really felt about the Ulvari agent and he’d come to accept that he’d have to share Zevian’s heart with not one, but two other lifebearers. He told himself that as long as there was room enough for him in there, it was okay. Idrisar wasn’t truly a threat to his relationship with Zevian—at least, not a material one—as long as he was bonded with another sire.

That would change if Ammiteo passed away, though. The dancer felt a sickening feeling of shame as he admitted to himself that he hoped Zevian could save the big sire as much for his own security as Idrisar’s emotional state. How terrible of him, to think of himself at a time like this. He knew that Idrisar had already been through the grief of losing one mate, and it wasn’t fair that he should have to suffer through it again.

Zevian picked up his hoagie and stared at it with pensive, narrowed eyes. “If he really wants me to, I’ll do it for his sake.”

"But you don’t think you’ll succeed?" Pressed Azurel, biting his lip. He’d heard what Zevian said in the hospital room and he shuddered to think of the nightmare of caring for an eternally disabled mate.

Zevian sighed, meeting his eyes. “There’s a chance I can do it, but there may not be much left of him to save. I’ve got to tell you; if I don’t think I can make him hole again, I probably won’t go through with it. Bringing Idrisar back only half his mate would be far more cruel than letting Ammiteo die, and it’s not completely up to me how it goes. The man might not _want_ to come back. If life support is all that’s keeping his body going, that’s a clue he’s meant to die.”

"Then why didn’t you say that to agent Blackbird?"

Zevian lowered his gaze and grimaced. “Because if I were in his place, I’d do the same damned thing. He and I are more alike in some things than he realizes.”

Azurel lapsed into silence, unable to dispute that. Yes, there would always be that rapport between the two of them, regardless of a difference of morals and lifestyles. Zevian would never stop loving Agent Blackbird, and he was certain that somewhere deep down inside, Idrisar felt the same about him. Fortunately for Azurel, the Ulvari agent was too practical to let those feelings guide his actions, else he might have never had a chance with the handsome guild lord in the first place. Maybe if he and Zevian could conceive, Azurel would have more security. Surely an old school sire like Zevian would never abandon the father of his child.

Azurel looked at him as Zevian silently ate, his thoughts clearly far away. He was so sexy and witty and hot, with his long brown hair streaked with brass highlights, his sculpted face and his sensual lips. So many lifebearers would give anything to be in Azurel’s place right now, but he would have offered a warning to them that being Zevian Saber’s lover wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. For one thing, despite his efforts to give Azurel a child, he never fully gave himself to him. A part of him was kept from the dancer, whether he meant for it to be or not. He had yet to propose Vashekna to him, and Azurel knew that the only reason he kept trying to get him pregnant was to appease his desire for a baby and shut him up about it.

"Hey, don’t look so worried," Zevian said, breaking into the dancer’s thoughts. He reached across the table and caressed his face briefly with his fingertips. "I won’t be in any personal danger, kid. The real danger is in bringing him back as a vegetable or a drooling invalid. Granted, I’ve never tried anything like this before, but everything I learned in my training tells me I’m just going to be his anchor. It’ll be up to Director Ammiteo to get back into his body."

Azurel nodded. Ammiteo was a strong, stoic man by all accounts. Perhaps this would work out, after all. He hoped so, and the guilt of why kept nagging him as he ate.

 

 

* * *

When Zevian returned to the hospital, he knew by the look of firm resolve on Idrisar’s face that the agent had made his decision. He murmured for Azurel to wait for him in the waiting room area, and he closed the door before approaching Idrisar. He searched his eyes, checking for any sign of uncertainty.

"You’re sure you want me to try this?"

Idrisar looked over at his comatose mate, and he nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. If there’s even a chance you can bring him back, I want you to try.”

Zevian nodded in understanding. He didn’t tell Idrisar that he’d decided to make it conditional upon _how_ Ammiteo would come back, if he could do this at all. “Go and wait with Azurel, then. I’ve got to do a thing to keep hospital staff from coming in here while I’m working on him and interrupting me, so nobody’s going to be able to come in here until I’m finished.”

Idrisar frowned. “How exactly are you going to manage that?”

Zevian glanced at the door. “I’ll ward the room with spirit shields. Anybody that tries to come in will change their mind and go do whatever else they have on their list. It should last long enough to buy me the time I need.”

"I see." Idrisar looked at Ammiteo again, his gaze softening behind the silver-framed glasses he wore. He approached the bedside and bent over his spouse, saying something softly in the Nandarian dialect to him before kissing him on the forehead. He straightened back up and looked at Zevian again. "Thank you, Zevian."

The guild lord shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet, gorgeous. I can’t promise you anything.”

"But you’re trying," insisted Idrisar, "and that counts, in my eyes. I know you’ll do your best."

Zevian sighed, nodding. “For you, I’ll do _more_ than my best…but I still might not succeed. I want you to be prepared for that.”

"I understand," said the Ulvari.

Zevian resisted another sigh. He could see by the hope and trust in Idrisar’s eyes that he really _didn’t_ understand, but he couldn’t back out of his promise now. He just hoped that Idrisar could forgive him if he failed to bring his mate back whole. He put his hands on Idrisar’s shoulders and he gave them a squeeze. “Go on and let me get started. I’ll do everything I can.”

 

 

* * *

When he was alone in the hospital room, Zevian warded the door as planned and he scooted the visitor seat over to the bedside. He sat down in it and he stared at the still form of the big sire pensively, his aqua gaze troubled on him.

"Don’t do this to him," Zevian said to Ammiteo. "He’s already been through this once before. Don’t put him through it again. You’ve got to come back."

It was pointless to sit there talking to the shell, however. If he wanted to talk to Ammiteo, he was going to have to find his soul and try to guide it back to the body. Zevian took a deep, steadying breath and he cleared his mind, preparing for a task that would likely prove to be the greatest challenge he’d ever faced, since coming into his gifts. He was a fool for even trying this, but he couldn’t refuse the direct request of a man he couldn’t help but love.

 

 

* * *

Azurel noticed when his companion nodded off, and he stood up to remove his jacket. He covered Idrisar with it to keep him warm, and he gazed down at him with sympathy. If it were Zevian lying in that bed, he knew he would have done anything and everything possible to get him back. Looking down at the agent, dozing in that chair looking so tired and yet so deceptively young, the dancer stopped thinking of himself completely and began to pray to the forests that Zevian could do this for Idrisar’s sake. It was so damned unfair that this was happening to such a good person; and Idrisar _was_ a good person. Azurel genuinely liked him, and he still felt he owed him for everything he’d done to help not only Zevian, but himself as well in the past.

"Why can’t things like this happen to the deserving?" he whispered…though he couldn’t honestly say who would "deserve" to be in this situation. The truly evil people he’d met on Wyndrah weren’t the sort to be this affected by something like this. People like Tsyther and L’daris would just shrug it off and find a new lover. Losing someone they were in a relationship with would probably just be a minor inconvenience, to the likes of them.

He saw Zevian coming into the waiting room and he watched him with wide, expectant eyes as he approached. One look at the expression on his face told Azurel the truth of it, and his heart ached for Idrisar.

"Zevian?" whispered the dancer.

The sire looked down at Idrisar with such regret and sorrow that Azurel’s vision blurred with tears. “What…happened?” he asked softly.

Zevian shook his head. He reached down and he gently shook Idrisar awake. “Come with me, love,” he said to the agent when he jerked awake. “Azurel, you come too.” The look in his tired aqua gaze said that he thought Idrisar was going to need someone to comfort him.

The agent looked up at Zevian with a mixture of hope and dread in his pale blue eyes. “Did you…succeed?”

Zevian shut his eyes and shook his head. “Come to his room, and I’ll explain what happened.”

Idrisar cast a look around, and though there were no other visitors waiting in the room, he visibly braced himself and stood up stiffly. He handed Azurel’s jacket back to him with soft thanks, and he went with Zevian into his mate’s hospital room. Azurel followed quietly, helpless and fighting tears himself. Idrisar’s eyes were dry, but he moved like an automation and he seemed quite brittle; prone to shatter at a touch.

Zevian waited for the two lifebearers to walk into the room before he shut the door and reported his results. “Idrisar, baby, I’m sorry but he’s gone,” he said. He opened his hands and looked down at them, as if seeking answers in the palms of them. “I had him for a brief moment, but he slipped away. I barely got the chance to speak his name before he was just…gone. He’s left this plane, and he isn’t coming back.”

Idrisar looked at the still body of his spouse on the bed, and he took a shaky breath. “There…was no chance at all?”

Zevian sighed, putting an arm around him. “There was, but it was a shot in the dark. I wasn’t fast enough, and I’m sorry. You can keep him on life support for as long as you want, but he’s never coming back.”

Idrisar put a trembling hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tried to stifle his grief. He cleared his throat and his eyes were bright with unshed tears as he looked up at Zevian, then at Azurel. “Thank you both for…coming,” he said in a tightly composed voice. He looked up at Zevian. “You tried. That was…all I could ask…”

He started to collapse, and Zevian supported him and guided him over to the chair. “Easy,” advised the guild lord softly. “Just let it out, kid. Don’t bottle it up.”

Idrisar shook his head and his lips quivered as he spoke. “Can’t. I…have to decide what to do. Have to call my son and…check on Seheret. I can’t fall apart now.”

Azurel watched him with concern, and he came to a decision. “I’ll go and get him some water to drink,” he offered.

Zevian nodded, glancing at him briefly. “Good call. Thanks.”

 

 

* * *

When they were alone together, Zevian tried to think of something—anything—to say to make it a little better. “There’s still hope,” he babbled. “Maybe someone with more experience then me could—”

"Don’t lie to me, Zevian," interrupted the agent. His tearful blue eyes stared into the sire’s. "Don’t tell me there’s hope when you don’t even believe that yourself. I can hear it in your voice, and I can see it in your eyes."

Zevian sighed heavily and lowered his gaze. “You were always too sharp for your own good. Look, I don’t believe there’s a chance of _me_ doing it, but there could be a chance if you take him to the Chalice and talk to the Spirit Keepers there.”

"They won’t do it," said Idrisar flatly. "You and I both know that. It’s why I asked you."

"Then maybe Agent Glaive could," suggested the guild lord. He didn’t tell Idrisar that he’d had his fears confirmed. He _could_ have forced Ammiteo back into his body, but the result would have been a shadow of the man he’d once been, doomed to a child’s mind for as long as his body held out. It was simply his time to go, and Zevian couldn’t be the one to drag him back under those circumstances.

Why then was he suggesting that Glaive try it? The lishere no doubt wouldn’t be any more willing than Zevian to sentence Ammiteo to that sort of life; not to mention the burden it would place on Idrisar. He reasoned with himself that it was because he hoped Glaive might succeed where he had failed.

"No," Idrisar said in a tone of aching finality. "I won’t go to Agent Glaive with this. He might be willing to try, but I know you, Zevian. You might be a rogue and a criminal, but when it comes to people you care about, you never do anything in halves."

Idrisar looked at him again, and the tears finally escaped to trickle down his face. “If you couldn’t do it, nobody can.”

Zevian felt his chest constrict with empathy, and when he spoke, his voice came out in a whisper. “I’m so sorry, kid.”

The lifebearer shook his head. “You tried. It wasn’t even fair of me to ask it of you, but I’m grateful that you tried, all the same. I just have to think of how I’m going to explain this to my little one. He’s too young to understand…but maybe that’s a good thing. It’s always harder for them when they’re older…when they have more memories with their sire.”

Idrisar averted his gaze and put a hand to his mouth again, visibly struggling. Zevian shook his head helplessly, and he decided to give Idrisar what he thought he needed right now; regardless of his determination to maintain his calm. He put his arms around the agent and he held him tightly, ignoring the way he stiffened at the embrace.

"Let it out," he encouraged. "Like you said; you’ve got a kid to think about, and you can’t let this fester and eat you alive. It’s just you and me, Idrisar. Nobody has to be the wiser."

Idrisar trembled, and a shaken sob escaped his lips, muffled against the guild lord’s shoulder. He returned his embrace, his hands clutching at the back of Zevian’s jacket desperately. Deep, wracking sobs tore through him as he cried like Zevian had never seen him cry before. It was painful, seeing him in such a state. He’d seen Idrisar vulnerable before after Tsyther got his hands on him, but never like this. Zevian rocked him and stroked his hair, letting him grieve in a way that he knew the lifebearer felt he could never grieve in front of anyone else.

 

 

* * *

Zevian and Azurel stayed until they were no longer needed. They brought food to Idrisar, stayed with him at the hospital and made sure he was getting enough rest. At the end of the week, Idrisar thanked them and told them there was nothing more they could do, and he knew that Zevian couldn’t stay away from Oricus for very long with the rivalry tension between guilds and pirate cartels. Zevian had a tenuous pact with the newest guild lord of Voldus; the man he’d placed in power over there was beginning to get too big for his britches, and Xellnaise was barely holding on to his control of Azirus, and could call on Zevian for help at any given day. They said their goodbyes and Zevian booked a flight back home, quietly stewing inside over his inability to be of more help to his friend. 

The department was very understanding and supportive when Idrisar spoke with Ammiteo’s family and agreed to take him off life support, two weeks later. The funeral rites were held a few days after he passed quietly away, and the whole department showed up for it. Evindar Adder and his band also attended, having personal reasons to pay their respect to the director.

In addition, an unexpected couple arrived in the middle of the rite. Idrisar was staring at his mate’s funeral pyre, waiting for them to light the fire that would burn his remains to ash, to be scattered into the winds afterward. He didn’t sense the approach of the newcomers until they were right beside him, and he gave a little start when a hand settled on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

"He was a good man, your Ammiteo."

Idrisar turned to look at Aurora Darshaw, his surprise fading quickly. She was dressed in a black dress suit, appropriate for the occasion. Beside her stood Vurkanan, also dressed in a black suit. He had his silver hair bound in a neat ponytail, and wisps of bangs blew across his pale eyes.

"I didn’t notice your arrival," whispered the agent, "but I don’t suppose I need to question how you two got here so quickly, without a word."

Vurkanan gave a little smile and a nod. “I apologize for our tardiness. We only got word yesterday and I had to be a bit hasty with the teleportation to get here before it ended.”

Idrisar drew a deep breath and nodded, oddly more comforted by their presence than the presence of his agency family. He could only reason that it was because they were both so ancient…if not always counted among the wise. He looked at the pyre again and he blinked, forcing back tears. “Yes, he was a good man.”

"So young," sighed Aurora.

"Everything dies," reminded Vurkanan softly, "even lashran. He isn’t gone, though. Our spirit singer friends could tell you that. Like my Lyre, he just exists on another plane, now."

Idrisar tried to take comfort in that, but right now he just wished he could go back in time and tell Ammiteo not to try and come home, to just sleep at the office and see him in the morning. He couldn’t do that, though, and now he again had a small son to raise on his own. Aurora watched the micro-expressions flit over the agent’s face, and she put an arm around him as she murmured into his ear.

"You did right by him. You loved him, you gave him a child. Dwelling over what could have been is only going to keep you from living your life, lad. You can’t move forward if you keep your eye fixated behind you. Just remember that, when your mourning time ends."

Idrisar closed his eyes and nodded. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, but the reminder would give him strength he knew he was going to need. If the car accident hadn’t claimed Ammiteo’s life, something else would have, if it was his time to go. Accepting that was the hardest thing to do, however.

 

 

* * *

After the funeral, Idrisar went to eat lunch with Aurora and Vurkanan. Nobody tried to hinder him, though Agent Wolfe looked like he wanted to offer him some comfort and his partner gently stopped him, leaving Idrisar free to make his escape from the wake. They chose a seafood cafe near the boardwalk and they ordered a combo plate to share. As he dipped a prawn in some cocktail sauce, Vurkanan gazed at him with sympathy and some concern.

"I realize this may be a foolish time to ask this," said the sorcerer, "but have you any plans for the future, Idrisar?"

The agent shrugged. “It isn’t too soon. I’ve been planning since I knew Ammiteo wasn’t going to come out of his coma. I’m going to keep it simple, for now. The agency tentatively offered Ammiteo’s job to me—”

Aurora snapped a crab leg in half and cursed. “That was beyond hair-brained,” she fumed. “Asking you to take over for your dead bondmate, before he even went to ground…or air, as be the case? Crass…too crass!”

"It’s all right," assured Idrisar, managing a tiny, weak smile of amusement. "This is how things work with the Ulvari. We can’t afford to go leaderless for long, and in their eyes, I was the most suitable candidate to step up and take over as Director."

"And what did you say?" Vurkanan asked.

"I turned them down." Idrisar sighed and pried open a mussel. "I just don’t have it in me, and even if I did, the hours would keep me away from Seheret too much. At least as an instructor, I have weekends and holidays off, as well as afternoons. The money isn’t as good, but I get a severance package from my old position, and Ammiteo’s life insurance will allow me to put together a good college fund for Seheret. I almost brought him to the funeral today, but even as well behaved as he can be for his age, he’s too young to be expected to sit still and be quiet for long. I’m…going to have a talk with him tonight, and explain to him that his sire can’t be with us anymore, but will always be watching over us."

They both nodded in understanding, and Vurkanan reached out to give his arm a supportive pat. “We have no immediate responsibilities, Idrisar. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we can stay in town for a while and assist you in any way we can.”

Idrisar gave another little smile, half-hearted. “Thank you, but I think I have everything in order. All necessary arrangements have been made, so I can concentrate on making it through the adjustment period and raising my son.”

Aurora sighed. “You’ve really been hit hard, yet you keep trudging on. I admire you for that.”

Idrisar looked down at his plate, hardly seeing the food on it. “What else is there to do? If it were just me, I might have a come-apart…but I have someone in my life to be strong for.”

"I’m sure the last thing you want to think about is the possibility of another relationship in the future," she said softly, "but just remember that it could be a long life. You’ve had shit-all luck with your partners, but don’t let this convince you there might not be someone else for you out there, eventually."

"Aurora," Vurkanan said in a warning tone, "that’s definitely not something people want to hear or talk about, after losing a mate."

"It’s all right," Idrisar sighed. He gave them both a rueful smile. "She isn’t wrong. Some lashran spend the rest of their lives in mourning, and they miss out on chances that come their way. She wasn’t telling me to jump right back into dating…I don’t think."

"No," agreed the woman hastily. "Not a bit. I just know what it’s like to feel like it’s safer never to love again, or even lust. You’re exactly right, Blackbird; people who spend the rest of their lives mourning for someone they lost aren’t truly living." She looked at Vurkanan sidelong as she said this, and the sorcerer sighed and busied himself with another prawn.

"If I did that, I never would have bonded with Ammiteo and I wouldn’t have my beautiful son," Idrisar said. "I have no regrets, on that front. All the same, it will probably be a good, long while before I’m ready to consider dating anyone again."

"And that’s perfectly natural," Aurora said. "And some people are content to be single, but I thought I should toss that out there since you’re a family man. You don’t strike me as the sort to be happy with permanent solitude."

"Some people can surprise you," murmured Vurkanan. "They can change."

Sensing that this conversation was no longer really about him, Idrisar resumed eating and he tried to ignore the challenging looks passing between his companions.

 

 

* * *

A new director was assigned; not a sire, but a lifebearer from the Rhuidhim Ulvari agency by the name of Talith. He was the official liaison between the Rhuidhim Ulvari agency and the Avras agencies. He had collar-length hair of a red-gold color, oak green eyes and a heavy intolerance for mistakes. His part as Director was meant to be temporary, but with nobody else fitting to fill in, he continued on.

Idrisar raised his son as best he could, and he kept his word to stay on as an instructor. It wasn’t until three years later that he found his position compromised once again, and it wasn’t through any particular fault of anyone on the department. He was working late to assist Talith with paperwork when news reached him of something that he just couldn’t ignore.

"How interesting," Talith remarked as he went through the files sent to him from foreign agencies.

Idrisar looked up from the paperwork he was finishing up. “What’s interesting?”

Talith narrowed his pale green eyes at the computer screen, and he shrugged. “It seems there’s now a hit out on Zevian Saber. Someone slipped up enough for the Zarnian branch to get wind of it. They’ve considered intervention but have decided against it.”

Idrisar had stood up without realizing it. “They aren’t even going to send him warning?”

Talith looked up at him with a troubled frown. “The conflicts of the guild lords aren’t our problem, Agent Blackbird. The Zarn branch is still relatively new, and if they expend effort to fix everything the Mafia and Pirates break throughout the islands, they’ll never have the energy to maintain their already tenuous foothold. The only reason they’ve held on for this long is because they are on the Chalice.”

Idrisar nodded curtly. “Understood, but can’t we send someone ourselves to intervene?”

Talith shook his red-gold head, appearing regretful. “Blackbird, I know you consider this rogue a friend, but how many hits has this man already lived through? We can’t babysit him.”

Idrisar compressed his lips. “Who’s been assigned the mark, sir?”

The director gazed at him evenly. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

Idrisar stared back at him. “I haven’t requested a day off since the death of my bondmate, sir. I think it’s time for a holiday.”

Talith sighed, his gaze straying to the computer screen again. “You realize I can’t officially sanction this, don’t you? If you do what I think you’re going to do, you’ll be on your own.”

Idrisar nodded. “Understood, Director.”

The other lifebearer met his eyes again, and a hint of admiration shone in his gaze. “Then I’ll put in the paperwork for your…holiday…Agent Blackbird. I hope you have a safe journey.”

A bare hint of a smile curved Idrisar’s mouth. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to make arrangements for my son while I go on this ‘holiday’.”

Talith nodded. “Of course. Come back to us in one piece, please. You happen to be the best instructor we have.”

That nearly provoked a chuckle from Idrisar. He bowed to the waist in an old-fashioned manner. “I’m replaceable, believe it or not. My honor, however, is not.”

"I only hope your friend is worthy of it," Talith remarked seriously.

"He is." There was no doubt in Idrisar’s voice.

 

 

* * *

-To be continued       


	2. Chapter 1

* * *

"Yes, I understand, Adam. Just do the best you can."

Zevian was about ready to pull his hair out by its semi-braided roots. There was a conflict of interests brewing, and trying to skate around doing business with Noel and Giddeus was proving to be more of a hassle than it was worth. The former was the current Ripper authority, and the latter was the guild lord of Voldus. Neither worked well together and both would do their best to have his hide, if they discovered he was buying on both ends. Being a Zarnian Mafia boss was a tricky business, however. If one wasn’t willing to take risks, one wasn’t likely to hold his seat of power for very long.

Some risks, however, were too steep. As he spoke to his subordinate over the phone, Zevian glanced at the photo of himself and a certain lifebearer on his desk and he was reminded again of how easily things came and went.

"If there are more questions, just tell Giddeus to get in touch with me directly," he finished. "We’ve already paid him in full for the shipment, so there shouldn’t be any issues."

"Okay, boss," agreed the human. "I’ve just got a bad feeling about this."

Zevian smirked, and he absently pushed the photo over onto its face so that it could no longer taunt him. “You’ve _always_ got a bad feeling, Adam. If I listened to you, we’d never get anything done. I’ll catch you later; just watch your ass.”

"Will do," promised Adam. "You be careful too."

Zevian felt a draft behind him, and he subtly reached for the gun holstered beneath his jacket. “I always am, Adam.”

He hung up the phone and he stood up abruptly, turning around with his pistol ready to fire. He never even got the chance. Two things happened at once: first, a sire in a black head mask tried to draw on him…and then, a smaller figure seemed to come out of nowhere to intervene. Zevian had time to see his would-be assailant go down with a smile sliced through his throat, before he recognized the person responsible for the fatal wound. He was dressed all in black—that form-fitting stretchy material that clung to his body so fantastically. His bloody Mokalor was extended, ready to attack again at the slightest notion of a threat.

"Blackbird," he said, unable to mask the surprise in his voice. "What in the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Idrisar looked up from the twitching body of his quarry, his pale blue eyes meeting Zevian’s. “Saving your ass.”

Zevian looked down at the attempted assassin now dirtying up his study’s carpet with his blood, and he clucked his tongue. “Idrisar…it’s not that I don’t appreciate your sudden burst of heroics, but I _knew_ he was there. You’ve made it impossible to question him, now.”

Idrisar looked down at the now deceased attacker with a frown. “Oh. I didn’t consider that.”

Against his will, Zevian started to grin. The Ulvari agent looked so contrite and young and…utterly beautiful to him. His grin became a chuckle, and the chuckle became a laugh. He didn’t even question how Idrisar managed to get in past his security, or why he came. Just seeing him again was like a slice of heaven.

Idrisar began to laugh as well, shaking his head. “I came because word got to me that there was a hit on you,” he explained, reigning in his own amusement. His gaze met Zevian’s again, and he sobered. “I owe you.”

It was Zevian’s turn to shake his head, though he was helpless against the warmth that stole over him with Idrisar’s soft proclamation. “You don’t owe me a thing, gorgeous. I’m glad you’re here, all the same.”

Idrisar smiled then…an introspective, quiet smile that made the guild lord ache. “I told you I would come, if it got bad.”

Ignoring the body on the floor, Zevian stepped around the desk and he rubbed the lifebearer’s arms with familiar affection. “Yeah, you did. I still wasn’t expecting you to drop in out of the blue, though.”

Idrisar glanced down at the body. “I’m sorry I spoiled your plans. I just…saw a threat to you and I acted on instinct. I should have just subdued him for questioning.”

Zevian shrugged. “I have a feeling there’s more where _he_ came from. I’m flattered, really. You came all the way here just to protect me.”

Idrisar averted his eyes, looking somewhat embarrassed. “The Zarnian Ulvari guild wasn’t going to get involved. I felt I had a responsibility to keep you safe.”

The guild lord sighed, all too familiar with Blackbird’s excuses. “Well, I’m a big boy…but I’m still grateful. This chump could have got a lucky opening on me, if it weren’t for you.”

Idrisar looked back down at the body. “What do you want to do with him?”

Zevian shrugged again. “Dump him in the sea.”

Idrisar looked back up at him with widened eyes. “Seriously?”

"Why not?" challenged the sire. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I’ve got no clue who sent him and his blood is staining my rug. There’s no point in arranging a burial for the poor bastard."

Idrisar looked like he was warring with himself for a moment, and his dark bangs fell over his eyes as he coughed into his hand. “What about your spirit singing? You might be able to—”

"Oh shit," interjected Zevian, slapping his forehead. "I didn’t even think about that."

"Well, you should consider it," advised the agent seriously. "I know I ruined your chances of questioning him alive, but you may get something out of his soul before it departs."

Zevian sighed, and he nudged the body with his boot, annoyed. “Right. Either way, the idiot’s going to create more work for me.”

"It’s better than being dead," reminded Idrisar.

Zevian had no argument for that.

 

* * *

Xellnaise stared out the window of his expansive home, and he sighed. He turned to face the lishere that had come under personal orders from Antyan Darshaw to guard him, and he briefly found himself staring. Erishar was a quiet individual; as intriguing as he was mysterious. The guild lord of Azirus still wasn’t sure quite how to interact with him. An attractive creature with eyes that flashed like emeralds, long, wavy hair of black and silver and a voice like silk, Erishar drew attention without even trying.

"You’re certain of this?" prompted Xellnaise.

The lishere nodded, examining the buckled, fingerless gloves covering his hands with mild distraction. “Your burden as guild lord is going to be lifted very soon, Mr. Quartz. I advise you to evacuate your people and begin packing, while you still can.”

Xellnaise looked out the window again, studying the darkening horizon thoughtfully. “And there’s no way the Wayfarers can hold it, this time?” He glanced over his shoulder at his unexpected guest, struggling with a blight of conflicting feelings.

The vivid green eyes looked up at him, and Erishar shook his head. “Not this time, no. By dawn, this island and all her ports will be overrun by—”

"My _goodness_!” cried the guild lord, startled by the sudden flashes of ion cannons coming from the harbor. “It’s already started!”

Erishar got out of his seat at the desk, and he stepped up beside the sire to stare out the window with narrowed eyes. “Yes, it has.” He dug out his mobile phone and quickly dialed a number. “Captain, what is your situation?”

Xellnaise watched him as he listened to the response, quietly amazed at his calm. Erishar nodded and once again, his intense gaze locked onto Xellnaise’s. “Understood. I’m preparing to escort Mr. Quartz and his daughter out now. Yes, I’ll be sure to tell him. Thank you, sir.”

Erishar put the phone away, and he nodded at the door. “Best get moving now, Mr. Quartz. Time is a luxury we can no longer afford.”

Xellnaise blinked, startled by the grim announcement. “But…my home…”

"You’re welcome to stay here until the Rippers come and break down your door," invited the young lishere, "but I can’t guarantee they won’t harm you or your daughter. Grab the essentials and come with me, unless you’d rather take your chances with them."

The guild lord swallowed. He was certainly better off with Captain Darshaw’s first mate than he was taking his chances with the Rippers. “I’ll go and tell Whitney to start packing,” he said wisely.

 

* * *

Zevian rubbed the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger. His head hurt from his efforts—which came as no surprise to him. “Okay, you were right,” he said to his Ulvari companion, standing a few feet away from him. “He was sent by the Rippers. I thought for sure it would be Thadden, but they’ve sent people after him, too. Funny, I would have expected a human assassin from the likes of them; not a lashran.”

"They likely presumed as much," reasoned Idrisar, his gaze straying to the cooling body that Zevian had just finished working over. "I imagine they wanted to make this look like a guild rivalry assassination. Our information on it was sketchy at best, but I had no doubt the news of the hit was true."

"Everyone wants a piece of me," smirked Zevian. He looked up from his kneeling position, and he wiped his hands absently on his pants. "I’ll have my men come and clean this mess up, and then I’ve got to get in touch with the other guild lords. I’m not in love with Giddeus, but if he goes down the power structure of Voldus goes too. Those bilge rats will hit hard while his guild is recovering from the loss of leadership, and it’ll effect the other islands too."

Idrisar nodded, his pale gaze troubled. “Zevian, how strong are the fortifications of the Oricus harbors?”

The sire stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out at the darkened skies. “Strong enough to hold for a while, but if the Rippers are smart, they won’t divide their forces overly. They’ll hit the other islands before they try to take over mine.”

"Then I think you should call Mr. Quartz, first."

Zevian nodded. “Yup.” He went to his desk, stepping over the body before taking a seat in the chair. He picked up his phone and dialed security, first. “There’s a mess for you to clean up in the main study,” he said, and then he hung up and dialed another phone number. As Idrisar watched, a frown grew on Zevian’s lips.

"Quartz, it’s Saber. I need you to dial me back right away, the minute you get this message. Something’s going on that may involve you whether you like it or not."

Zevian hung up and called a different number. After a few moments, someone picked up on the other line and he spoke. “This is Zevian Saber. I need to talk to your boss.” His frown deepened. “ _What_? When? You’re shitting me…”

Idrisar checked the windows just to be safe, while Zevian began to argue with whomever was on the other line. “No, dammit! I just had one come after me, too! Why the hell would I take out a contract on someone I…oh, balls…hold on a moment. I’ve got a call coming in on the other line.”

Zevian switched over, just as Vylden came in with a pair of human guys. The tall, white-haired sire gave Idrisar an openly surprised look before turning his attention to the body on the floor. He motioned to his companions and they immediately went to the corpse to assess the situation.

"Xellnaise," Zevian said, motioning at his men to hurry things up. One of them rushed out of the room to retrieve something—probably a tarp or body bag. "Listen, we’ve got a situation that…oh? You’re already leaving? Well damn, that was fast. Uh-huh. Oh…that’s not good. What about the Wayfarers? Shit, so your island is as good as lost, then."

Zevian sighed and gave Idrisar a look that said they were in for a shitstorm. “No, don’t try to stick around, Quartz. If Darshaw is advising you leave, then that’s what you need to do. You can come to Oricus and stay with me for a while, if you have to. They aren’t going to let Whitney past security on the Chalice and if you tell them you’re fleeing from pirates, they’re more likely to toss you in the slammer than they are to lift a finger to help you. In there eyes, you’re just bringing trouble to their pristine doorstep. Yeah. You just head this way until you decide where you want to go from here. If they hit you, odds are they’re planning to hit _us_ too, but we’ve got some time to prepare. All right, goodbye.”

Zevian glanced Idrisar’s way and offered an explanation that the agent was already expecting, after hearing part of his conversation. He was not, however, fully expecting the second part. “The Rippers are taking over Azirus, and someone just took out Giddeus Thadden on Voldus.”

He clicked back over to the other line to speak with whomever he had on hold. “Hey, I’m back. Listen, that wasn’t my doing. I just got off the phone with Xellnaise Quartz and he’s had to evacuate his island because the Rippers are taking the harbors. Uh-huh. Yeah. They’re trying to hit us all systematically, and if you cats have a lick of common sense, you’ll tighten up security on all your harbors and lock everything down tight. Me? I’ve got my own island to look after, and I can’t spare people right now to come bail you out if you end up flailing in shit. Do the best you can and if we can hold our islands, we can organize a counter force later to take back Azirus. I don’t know…who do you think I am, a soothsayer? If Voldus falls, it falls. I can’t help you with that right now. Good luck.”

Zevian hung up the phone for good, and he looked at his men as the one that had left returned with a tarp to roll the body up in. As Vylden gave him a questioning look, he offered an explanation. “Our friend here tried to ambush me, and Agent Blackbird happened to get wind of the hit and showed up just in time to give him the business end of his Mokalor. He was sent by the Rippers. They’ve already gotten to Thadden and they’re taking over the harbors on Azirus. Vylden, leave the cleanup to these two and get on the phone with our port authorities. Everything’s got to be high and tight. No traffic comes or goes from our harbors until we know we’re safe from Ripper attacks, clear?”

Vylden nodded. “Got it, boss.” He gave Idrisar a polite nod, and he nudged the half-wrapped body with his shoe. “Good to see you again, Agent. I don’t know how this guy got past our security, but we owe you one.”

"Training," excused the Ulvari. "He got past you the same way I did. You have nothing to be ashamed for."

Zevian smirked as the humbled gangster left the room, pulling out his cell phone to start making the necessary calls. He waited until the others carried the body out and once they were alone again, he turned in his chair to look up at Idrisar. “So, fun times. Where is your kid at, Blackbird?”

"He’s staying with his Uncle Sefon," answered the lifebearer. He walked over to the desk and he righted the framed picture that Zevian had turned face-down earlier. Examining the photo briefly, he glanced at the guild lord. "Where is he?" He nodded meaningfully at the lavender-haired lifebearer smiling in the photo next to Zevian.

 

* * *

The sire’s smirk faded, his gaze straying to the picture. “He left me about a year ago.”

Idrisar blinked with surprise. “I…had no idea. I’m sorry. Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business, but what happened?”

Zevian shrugged, averting his gaze. “I guess I just wasn’t making him happy.”

There was a lot more to it than that, but he wasn’t about to tell Idrisar the intimate details of it. Idrisar gave him a suspicious look, his crystal-blue eyes steady on him. “I won’t press you for information you aren’t willing to part with, but that explanation smacked of lies.”

Zevian laughed before he could stop himself. “Nothing gets past you, does it?” He sighed and he took the picture in his hands, recalling the vacation it had been shot at. “He didn’t feel like I really loved him, and he really wanted a kid of his own. I tried, but…”

He trailed off, mindful not to repeat the accusing words thrown at him by the dancer on the day he decided to leave. Idrisar didn’t need to know that Azurel felt like he was competing with him. He didn’t need to know that Zevian kept clippings of every news article he found involving him from Valkyrie Falls, and that Azurel found them and finally had enough. Ammiteo had only been gone for three years, and while a human might start seeking romantic prospects after such a time period, lashran mourning tended to last longer.

Idrisar approached him and put his hands on his shoulders, rubbing them comfortingly. “I’m sure you did, Zevian. I did warn him from the beginning that you might not be able to give him what he was looking for, but Azurel was determined to be with you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Zevian laid a hand over one of Idrisar’s, and he gave it a little squeeze. “Thanks, kid. I’m just sorry I couldn’t give him what he needs.”

"You’re a good man, Zevian."

The guild lord half-turned, looking up at him with an ironic smirk. “I never expected to hear a compliment like that from you.”

Idrisar gently withdrew his hands, and he shrugged. “You are, though. Rogue or not, you have a core set of morals and you live by them. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

Zevian couldn’t fault that logic, but a part of him hoped for the possibility that there was a bit of wiggle room in there. Idrisar had come to protect him without a second thought; regardless of the fact that he was quite capable of defending himself. He might have done it purely out of a sense of obligation and that stubborn honor of his, but Zevian chose to believe there was some love involved, as well. He again found himself in a state of admiration for him. There he was, again raising a child on his own after losing a spouse, and he chose to put himself in harm’s way in a foreign country, for the sake of someone who didn’t even operate inside the law.

"Have I told you how grateful I am to see you?" Zevian murmured, "because I am."

Idrisar smiled quietly and lowered his gaze. “Even though I inadvertently complicated things more for you?”

Zevian chuckled. “You found out I was in danger, and you came—just like you promised you would. It was a hairy entrance, but impressive as usual. Like I said; that guy might have found an opening and done me some damage before I could stop him, if it weren’t for you.”

Idrisar raised his eyes, and there was a twinkle in them. “Gratitude accepted, Mr. Saber.”

The sire chuckled again. He’d missed the witty banter with Idrisar, more than he could safely express.

 

* * *

"Daddy, where are we going?"

Whitney was old enough now to handle her own firearm, by Zarnian standards, and the pre-teen kept one hand on the pearl-handled weapon she’d received for her birthday this year as the car sped through the narrow streets. A gunshot went off somewhere around the block, and a woman screamed. Xellnaise reached out with a comforting hand to pat his adopted daughter on the leg.

"It’s going to be all right, darling," he promised. He nodded at the silent lishere sitting across from them in the limo. "This man has a ship that we’re going to board, and we’ll be spending some time with Uncle Saber in Oricus."

She sighed and gave him a sidelong look of annoyance. “I’m not a little girl anymore. You don’t have to dress up the truth to make me feel safe.”

Erishar pinched his lips and looked out the window as Xellnaise sputtered and struggled for a response. “I know you aren’t a child, sweetheart,” said the silver-haired guild lord. “But you’re still my daughter, and I can’t help but slip into my protective mode, when it comes to you.”

Whitney shrugged dark coils of hair over one mocha shoulder, and she sighed. “What’s really going on? Are we going to come back?”

Xellnaise looked out the window uncertainly, and he winced when he saw a man get shot down in the street. “Honestly, it isn’t likely. This island isn’t safe for us any longer, dear.”

She also looked out the window. “It never really was, Dad.”

The simple yet truthful response made him sigh. He’d done his best to create a safe environment to raise her in, but the issues with the pirate cartel steadily grew over time, and he was just one man. “No, darling, I suppose it wasn’t.”

Another shot rang out, and the car came to a stop so abruptly that Xellnaise almost pitched forward into Erishar’s lap. He grabbed hold of Whitney’s arm impulsively as he righted himself, and he reached for his own rarely employed gun.

"What’s going on?" he called to the driver. The windows were bulletproof, so he knew that last gunshot couldn’t have hurt anything.

The divider came down and the driver’s anxious face peered through, turned at an angle. “The road is blocked, sir.”

Xellnaise sat forward a bit, trying to see out the window. “Blocked by what?”

He got his answer a moment later, when men wearing Ripper sashes surrounded the vehicle. Erishar immediately reached for his pistol, but he didn’t draw it. He sighed in an irritated manner and he looked at the guild lord. “Buckle up. This may get rough.”

"What are you going to…oh, my!"

Xellnaise hastily employed the seat belt he’d forgotten to put on before as a wall of fire suddenly sprang up all around the car. He hadn’t seen Erishar make any gestures or speak any chants, but the narrowed green eyes suggested that he was responsible for the sudden flaming gouts. He would have considered trying a spell himself, if he weren’t so nervous over his daughter’s safety…but what he’d just witnessed came from no arcane source that he could recognize.

"Spirit singing?" he wondered, even as the men surrounding the automobile jumped back and shouted. One of them caught fire and he immediately dropped and rolled. Xellnaise looked through the divider and saw that the way ahead was clear. "Drive," he hollered to the chauffeur.

The driver didn’t waste a moment. He floored it, and the tires shrieked as the silver limo peeled out. There was a “thunk” as a body hit the car—some unfortunate Ripper that failed to move out of the way in time. A shot was fired, and Xellnaise instinctively covered his daughter’s body with his own to protect her. They hit a bump in the road and the hapless guild lord cried out in protest as his head hit the ceiling. He bit his tongue by accident, and he tasted the tinny flavor of his own blood.

The car sped down the streets to the eastern harbor; the one that was generally used for ferries and small boats. The driver stopped right at the dock and hurried around to the trunk to retrieve the luggage, while Erishar stepped out with his pistol drawn. In the water, the Black Cat waited and the lishere fired a flair into the sky to signal the crew. Fortunately, the main forces of the Rippers seemed to be concentrating on the primary harbor, so they had no opposition yet. A motorboat was lowered from the ship and within moments, the pilot of the boat met them at the docks and bade them to hurry and get in. Xellnaise’s chauffeur put the luggage in first, and then he waited while the guild lord, his daughter and Erishar got in. Once they were aboard, he climbed in too and the motorboat sped back to the ship.

No sooner did they set foot on the main deck of the large ship than Captain Darshaw stepped out from the cabin entry. His yellow gaze settled on his passengers, before flicking to his first mate. “Was there any trouble?”

Erishar shrugged. “Some, but I handled it.”

Antyan nodded in satisfaction, the gleam of the lanterns shining on his raven hair. His black owl sat perched comfortably on his shoulder, and he absently petted her head with his fingertips as he regarded Xellnaise and Whitney. “Welcome aboard the Black Cat. Erishar will show you to your quarters in a moment, once we’re underway.”

"Are more of your people coming?" asked Xellnaise uncertainly.

Antyan shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The Rippers far outnumber the amount of Wayfarers we have at our disposal right now, and it’s pointless to challenge them. Your island is lost, Mr. Quartz.”

As much as Xellnaise would have liked to believe otherwise, he couldn’t dispute Antyan’s observation.

 

* * *

_Valkyrie Falls, Alliance Headquarters, early the next day:_

"I don’t _believe_ this,” complained Haden to his partner. “He just up and _left_?”

Glaive nodded. “That’s the long and short of it, yeah.” Today he wore his hair in a braid, and he absently fooled with the piercings in his ears as he looked over files on his computer.

The knight scratched his head and wandered aimlessly through Glaive’s office. “And the department wouldn’t do anything to help? The news says Azirus island’s been taken over by rippers.”

"The official stance of Ulvari organizations is that the troubles of the Zarnian mafia aren’t our concern," explained Glaive with a sigh. "If interested parties want to hire agents for personal protection, they can apply at the Ulvari guild on the Chalice. I don’t even need to tell you that the Nandar branches already have their hands full."

Haden grunted. No, there was no need. Tales of civil unrest had made it onto the news, and there was a lot of speculation that the Nandar government could shut down at any moment. “So let me guess; Idrisar took off because Zevian called him up for help?”

"I don’t think he called him," answered Glaive, "but my guess would be that handsome rogue was the primary reason for his decision to leave. Blackbird has a personal interest in his well-being, after all."

Haden nodded. “Yeah. I hope he’s careful. I mean, I like Mr. Saber as much as the next guy, but he knows how to handle himself.”

Glaive smirked, his coral eyes flicking to the augmented human. “Somehow I don’t think that came as a comfort to our compelling instructor. I agree with you, though…I hope he’ll watch his ass and not get himself too embroiled in Zarnian troubles. We’d have a bitch of a time replacing him.”

Haden sighed and plopped down on the leather couch. “Nandar on the brink of civil war, Zarn caught up in a power struggle with pirates…what’s the world coming to?”

"A head," answered Glaive dryly. "A big, foamy head that’s about to boil over and scald anyone unlucky enough to be in its path. Agent Blackbird made his own choice to be in the thick of it."

His phone started to ring and he briefly considered letting the answering service get it. He got a nudge from the spirits within seconds, and he took it as a sign that he should definitely answer this call. Glaive picked up the phone and brought it to his ear. “Agent Glaive here.”

"Glaive, it’s Blackbird."

The lishere looked at his companion with ironically raised, pale brows. “We were just talking about you. How are things in Oricus?”

"The situation here is more or less stable," answered the lifebearer, "but the Rippers have taken over Azirus, and they’ve already made moves against Voldus, too. The guild lord of the latter was just recently killed."

"What about the Azirus guild lord?" pressed Glaive. "Mr. Quartz, wasn’t it?"

"He’s fine," answered Blackbird. "He evacuated and took passage on a Wayfarer ship, before the island was completely overrun. Captain Darshaw is bringing him and his daughter here, for a time."

Glaive’s brows went up again. “Captain Darshaw…as in Aurora?”

"No, her brother Antyan and his crew," explained Idrisar. "I have no idea where Aurora and Vurkanan are, right now. I expect they’ll make an appearance before too long, considering their ties to the Wayfarers and the fact that they have kin involved in this now."

"Hmm. How long do you think Saber can maintain control of his island?"

"I’m confident that Oricus will remain secure for some time," replied Idrisar. "Security here is much stronger than it was on Azirus, and the Rippers are going to spread themselves too thin if they come after Oricus while trying to hold on to the other islands. It’s also well-known by now that Zevian is a spirit singer, and those cutthroats respect that."

Glaive chuckled. “Don’t fuck with us spirit singers, mate. Are you sure that’s going to be enough to keep them at bay, though?”

"I don’t think they’ll be in a hurry to try and take Oricus by force, but their control over the other two islands will have a substantial effect on the import and export trafficking here…and thus the economy," reasoned Idrisar. "I think Saber’s biggest problem won’t be the wolves at his door, but the shakedown he’s going to get when it comes to trading. I could be wrong, though. Maybe they’ll just be satisfied with the other two islands and keep fair trade open with Oricus."

"I’ve never known Rippers to practice fairness at all," Glaive pointed out grimly.

"True," sighed Blackbird, "and they already tried to have Zevian killed. The hitman was an Ulvari assassin. He wasn’t terribly advanced in his skills, but he definitely had training. Fortunately, he was too focused on Zevian to notice me before it was too late."

"Then it would stand to reason that where there’s one assassin, there’s likely going to be another," said Glaive.

"Agreed. I’m going to stay for a while as Mr. Saber’s personal bodyguard. I would consider it a personal favor if you would check on my son every couple of days, Glaive. I trust Sefon and Lasaverus implicitly, but…unexpected things can happen, no matter how safe or careful people try to be."

Glaive’s mind naturally went straight to Ammiteo, and the tragic accident that took him so quickly and unexpectedly from their lives. “Absolutely. If anything goes awry, I’ll contact you…provided your family doesn’t beat me to it.” He didn’t bother reassuring him that everything was going to be fine. Idrisar was just being cautious, not pessimistic.

"Thank you. Well, it’s past dinnertime here and I’m still fighting jetlag, so I’m going to let you go and have something to eat. Hopefully this situation will clear up enough for me to return home soon, but I’m not getting my hopes up."

"Just watch yourself, Agent Blackbird," answered Glaive, "and if things get too hairy there, well…I’ve been known to bend the rules."

"You don’t bend them," countered the lifebearer, "you outright _break_ them. Who do you think you’re kidding?”

Glaive laughed. “Guilty, as charged. Well, should you decide you need a rule breaker if it gets over your head, you know where to find me.”

"And me," added Haden in the background.

"Yes, and the boyscout. Apparently he’s willing to let his adherence to the rules go a bit tea colored for your sake, Agent Blackbird."

"If it gets bad enough for me to need your help," predicted Idrisar somberly, "then this island is as good as lost and we’ll be evacuating."

Glaive’s smile faded. “Fair enough. Still, the offer is open.”

"I understand, and thank you. Have a good day, Agent Glaive."

"You too," said the lishere, and he shrugged. "Or at least as good a day as you _can_ have, under the circumstances.”

He hung up when he heard the click on the other line, and he looked over at Haden. The knight had been reclining on the couch, but he was sitting up straight now. “He’s appointed himself as Mr. Saber’s personal bodyguard through this,” announced Glaive, “and I imagine he hasn’t even considered charging him a fee.”

"Sometimes it’s not about money," said Haden. "And if I know Idrisar, he’d turn it down even if Saber offered payment to him."

Glaive smirked. “Saber probably doesn’t even know he’s got an official Ulvari bodyguard now. I’ll bet Idrisar didn’t even ask.”

Haden snorted. “No, Idrisar just does. He’s like the most decisive agent I’ve ever met. Once he’s worked out the situation, he dives right in. I just hope he doesn’t get hurt.”

"He hasn’t done fieldwork for six years," said Glaive, "but he’s still ranked at the top for skill. They’d have to get close enough to harm him first, and fast enough to follow it through."

Haden suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. “I wasn’t talking about physical bruises, man.”

Glaive understood, and he nodded. Idrisar had withstood Zevian’s charms before, but how much could one man be expected to take emotionally, before he cracked and sought out the embrace of a handsome rogue like Saber? There was some definite chemistry between them, and three years was a reasonable time period after losing a mate to begin considering romantic options. Glaive didn’t know if Zevian was still with that lovely dancer or not, but he had a feeling the man wouldn’t turn Idrisar down if he came into his bedroom.

"He’s got a good head on his shoulders," Glaive finally said, "and Blackbird has never been known to let his impulses take the wheel."

"Except when he finds out there’s a hit on a Zarnian mafia boss and decides to take off to rescue him, without warning," Haden pointed out with raised brows.

Glaive cleared his throat. “Er…well, there is _that_.”

 

* * *

"How’s the bisque?" Zevian asked, looking over the table at his Ulvari guest. He started to stare at him again and he made himself look elsewhere. Now wasn’t the time to leer at Idrisar, no matter how much he’d missed him. There were shadows of fatigue under Blackbird’s eyes, but he was still gorgeous to Zevian.

"It’s very good," responded Idrisar softly, after taking another spoonful. He chewed and swallowed before dabbing his lips with a napkin. "My compliments to the chef."

Zevian grinned. “Want to know a secret?”

Idrisar suddenly looked at the seafood dish with an expression of mock suspicion. “It’s drugged?”

Zevian snorted. “What do you think I am? No, it’s not drugged. It’s my recipe.”

Idrisar smiled softly. “Is it?”

The guild lord nodded. “Yeah. I was in there cooking it while you were getting cleaned up and speaking with your agency. I’ve taken to cooking all my own meals now, except when I’m throwing a party and need catering done.” He checked his watch. “Hopefully it will still be warm when Quartz and his people get here.”

Idrisar looked pleasantly surprised. “So this was made by your own hands? Impressive. I never imagined you to be the sort to get into cooking.”

"It’s just something I picked up over the last year," said Zevian. "I still have some cafeteria staff to make meals for my men, though. I have to keep my people fed, and I’m not cooking for all those bastards."

Idrisar chuckled. “I didn’t think about your security and house staff. That’s a lot of mouths to feed.”

"And some of them eat like horses." Zevian’s gaze went to Vylden. "I’m looking at _you_ , Vylden.”

The shark grinned and shrugged, patting his belly. “I burn a lot of calories, boss.”

"Damn good thing," quipped Zevian, "Or you’d be a tub of lard, by now."

"Rude."

Idrisar chuckled at the banter and resumed eating. “How long do you expect Mr. Quartz to stay here?”

Zevian shook his head and crumbled another cracker into his bisque. “If he were a normal guild lord, I’d say he’d probably stay and try to coordinate a counter-attack to take his island back. You’ve seen how Xellnaise is, though. He gets squeamish at the thought of blood shed and he never really wanted this gig to begin with. If Azirus _does_ get liberated somehow, I don’t think Xellnaise will be the one sitting in the seat of power again. He’ll probably pass it on to someone else. The guy’s got enough money to get by comfortably for the rest of his life, so he’ll probably stay with us until he’s sure it’s safe to travel further, and then he’ll pick somewhere else to live.”

"Well, his choices aren’t that broad," sighed Idrisar. "My oldest son and his family moved to Rhuidhim when things started to go downhill in Nandar."

"Yeah, Nandar is definitely off the plate as an ideal place to move to," said Zevian, "and the Chalice wouldn’t admit him with his daughter, even if they were allowing immigration right now. His best bet will be Avras or Rhuidhim, unless he likes the climate of the southeast. I don’t think he’d do very well in Ocathia."

"He’d blind everyone for miles," joked Idrisar.

They shared a hearty chuckle and finished their meals. Just as Zevian was about to go and get dessert, one of his men came into the dining room and announced that the guests from Azirus had arrived. Zevian excused himself and went to the front door to greet them.

 

* * *

"This is all you brought?" asked Zevian in surprise, referring as much to the single footman as the shortage of luggage. "What happened to your staff?"

"I evacuated them," answered Xellnaise, "though I can’t tell you whether they made it out safely or not. We were in a bit of a rush."

Erishar nodded, glancing at the tall, dark form of his captain. Antyan didn’t have his pet owl with him, this time. “They struck sooner than anticipated. If we’d have waited any longer, the ‘cat’ would have had a fight on her hands.”

Antyan nodded silently.

Zevian ran his fingers through his brown-gold hair and sighed. “Well, I could assign a couple of my people as bodyguards for you, while you’re a guest in my house. Right now, neither of us needs to be without insurance. They sent someone to try to take me out, too.”

Xellnaise put a protective arm around Whitney—who was staring up at Antyan with a little blush on her face. “I appreciate that—”

"There’s no need," said Antyan. He looked at his lishere companion. "Erishar will guard Mr. Quartz, while we organize Wayfarer defenses and meet with the council to discuss what to do next."

Erishar blinked at the captain, then glanced at Xellnaise. “You’re sure you don’t need me?”

The raven-haired sire shook his head. “Your talents would prove more useful here, for now. When a course of action is decided, we can discuss your role in it.” Antyan removed his hat and gave a graceful, old-fashioned bow. “Until then, Mr. Saber, I’ll keep in touch. I need to get back to my ship and collect some allies. We have a fleet protecting our sea routes as of now, but once the Rippers are settled in, they’re sure to contest us.”

Zevian nodded. “Go do what you have to do, Captain. Give Star my regards, if you see her.”

Antyan smirked slightly. “I’ll no doubt hear her before I see her, but I’ll relay the message when I do.” He looked at his first mate. “Keep our investment safe, Erishar.”

The lishere looked at his newly assigned charge, and he nodded. “Yes sir.”

Satisfied that everything was in order, Antyan turned to leave. Zevian watched him go and he couldn’t help but feel a little curious about the details behind his plans.

 

* * *

"Your rooms are right beside each other," explained Zevian as he showed his new guests to the bedrooms he’d selected for them. He looked at Erishar. "Mr. Quartz’s bedroom has a couch in it that folds down into a bed, if you plan to sleep in there with him. Otherwise I can give you one of the guest rooms across the hallway."

"The couch will be fine," said the lishere.

"Now, just a moment," Xellnaise said nervously, flushing a little. "I appreciate your devotion to keeping me safe and all, but is it really necessary to sleep in the same room?"

"Yes," answered both Zevian and Erishar at once. The latter added more. "You’re at your most vulnerable when you’re asleep. I’ll give you what privacy I can, but I’ve been assigned to keep you alive, and that’s what I intend to do."

Xellnaise parted his lips, looked at his daughter and sighed. “Oh, all right. I’m a bit worried about Whitney’s safety, though.”

"These two bedrooms share a connecting door," explained Zevian. "So you can walk right in to hers and vice-versa, even if the hall doors are locked. I’m sure Erishar can keep you both safe, and my security is a lot tighter since yesterday. I’ve got spirit wards up all over the place now."

Erishar nodded. “I saw them.”

Zevian raised a brow at him. “Oh? You’ve got spirit singing talents, then?”

"Of course!" cried Xellnaise in excitement, startling them all a bit. "So _that’s_ how you did it! My mind immediately went to magick!”

Zevian frowned at the lishere. “What the hell’s he talking about?”

Erishar shrugged, lowering his bright green gaze. “I have some abilities. I’m still learning. My mentor should be coming soon to meet up with the captain, so perhaps you’ll get the chance to meet him.”

"Well, that was impressive for someone who’s still learning, I must say," complimented Xellnaise, and Whitney nodded.

A subtle hint of a smile briefly manifested on the young lishere’s lips. “Thank you.”

Whitney looked up at the Oricus guild lord. “Who’s going to be guarding you, Mr. Saber?”

"I am."

They turned to see Idrisar approaching, and he offered one of his quiet smiles.

"Oh you are, eh?" Zevian gave him a dryly challenging look, though his heart skipped a beat at the soft proclamation.

Idrisar nodded, and he absently rubbed his left eye. “Yes, but I’m afraid I need to retire soon and catch up on sleep. I won’t be much good to you un-rested.”

"Are you going to sleep in Mr. Saber’s room?" asked Whitney with girlish innocence.

Zevian and Idrisar’s eyes met, and the agent blushed lightly. “I…well, it would be the most convenient way to guard him at night, but that’s his call.”

"That’s fine," said Zevian, hardly thinking about his words. "After I’ve shown them to the dining room for some dinner, I’ll get the bedroom ready."

Now he felt like _he_ might start blushing—which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he was going to go put on a leopard-print thong and cover himself in flavored body oil for the man…it was a business arrangement.

"Well, let’s get you fed while your man puts away your luggage," he said abruptly. He moved aside for the footman to carry said luggage through the door, and the others followed him down the grand staircase and into the dining room. He had one of the cooks reheat the bisque and serve it to his guests, and while they ate, he motioned to Idrisar to come with him to the master bedroom upstairs.

 

* * *

Zevian finished preparing the couch, and he gestured at the big, four-poster bed. “It’s all yours, kiddo.”

Idrisar frowned with confusion.

"I’m not about to let you take the couch," elaborated the guild lord with a smirk. "That wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, would it?"

"I can’t take your bed," Idrisar protested softly.

"Why not?" Zevian crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at him in that charming way of his. "You’ve appointed yourself my protector. If you’re going to keep my ass alive, you need a good sleep. You said so yourself."

Idrisar glanced at the tanned portion of chest and clavicle visible through the V of Zevian’s shirt, where two of the buttons had come undone. “I’m sure the couch would be fine.”

Zevian sighed. “I’m not going to sleep on the bed while a lifebearer sleeps on the couch, Id. It goes against my upbringing, and you know it.”

A melancholy little smile made an appearance on Idrisar’s lips, and his eyes softened. “You and he were very similar, in that respect.”

There was no need to explain which “he” was being referenced. Zevian’s gaze softened too, and he looked at his shoes. “Any sire that wouldn’t give up a seat or a bed for a lifebearer or woman isn’t really a man, in my eyes. I’m sure your mate felt the same.”

Idrisar nodded. “He did.” He rubbed his eye again and grimaced. “Well, thank you, Zevian. You’ve proven again that there’s a gentleman under that rogue-ish exterior.”

"You okay?" Zevian watched him with slight concern as he rubbed his eye.

"Fine," assured the agent, "it’s just this contact lens. The left one is trying to get unseated, so I should probably take them out for the night."

The sire stepped closer to him, and Idrisar felt a little breathless as he cupped his chin. “Here, let me have a look.”

"It’s not a big deal," insisted the shorter man. "It happens all the time after extended…wear…"

His words trailed off as he looked up into Zevian’s compelling, aqua gaze, and his pulse quickened when the sire stroked his hair aside to have a better look—in theory. The sensitive lips parted, and Zevian’s brow furrowed slightly with some emotion. He traced Idrisar’s cheekbone with his fingertips and for a moment, it seemed like he would kiss him.

"Your eye’s a little red," murmured the guild lord.

"They’re just…tired and dry," excused Idrisar. "I have drops in one of my bags that I can use."

Zevian nodded, stepping back with some reluctance. “I’ll leave you to it then, gorgeous. I’ll go downstairs and hang with the others for a while. I’ll try not to wake you up when I come to turn in for the night.”

"You won’t succeed," Idrisar said, smirking a little as he tried to steady his pulse. "I sleep lightly."

"Baby, I’ve seen you _literally_ fall asleep on your feet,” reminded Zevian with a wink as he paused at the door. “I don’t doubt you’ll be up and kicking the moment you sense a real threat, but you know I’m not one.”

Idrisar smiled. “I suppose I can concede that point. Goodnight, Zevian. Please tell the others goodnight for me, too.”

"Will do," agreed the sire, and he shut the door behind him as he left the room, giving Idrisar his privacy to change and go to bed.

 

* * *

Much later that night, Idrisar woke up and he padded soundlessly over to the couch where his companion was sleeping. He vaguely remembered Zevian coming in sometime after eleven, but as the guild lord said; it didn’t really disturb his rest because Idrisar felt safe with him. He gazed down at Zevian’s attractive face, bathed in the moonlight shining through the nearby window. His hair was unbound and loose around his shoulders, and he had one arm bent and propped over his head. He was shirtless, with a pair of pajama pants on. He must have changed into them in the bathroom or something.

He really was a handsome devil. Idrisar started to reach out to touch the comely, sculpted features, and he stopped himself just before his fingertips made contact.

"What am I doing?" he mouthed to himself.

Frustrated that he seemed to keep forgetting the reason why he never allowed things to progress with the man before, Idrisar crept back to the bed and climbed in. He pulled the sheets up and he stared at the darkened ceiling. He loved Zevian. He’d admitted as much to himself after the Sandman incident. He also knew their lifestyles couldn’t mesh well together, and while he didn’t torture himself with the belief that he’d be cheating on Ammiteo by eventually taking a lover, he still agonized over the fundamental moral differences between him and Zevian. In addition, he didn’t want Zevian rebounding on him. He’d lost his mate three years ago, but it had only been a year since Azurel left Zevian.

Idrisar closed his eyes and told himself to just concentrate on his purpose here. His sexual urges weren’t the boss of him…or so he told himself.

 

* * *

 

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 2

* * *

"Boss? Boss, are you awake yet?"

Zevian grumbled and blinked his eyes open. He saw Idrisar sitting up, and he found him ridiculously cute looking in his t-shirt and shorts, with his dark hair mussed. The guild lord got up, nearly tripping on the sheets wound around his legs, and he went to the door. “What’s all the noise about?” he demanded of the human on the other side.

"We just got word," said Johnny. "The Rippers have started their attack on Voldus."

 

* * *

Xellnaise was already in the main den, sipping coffee while watching the news on the big screen television. Erishar stood behind his chair, his bronze features unreadable. Xellnaise looked up as Zevian and Idrisar walked in, and he gestured at the screen anxiously—nearly spilling his steaming beverage. “I can scarcely believe it,” he announced. “So fast…they’ve moved in so fast!”

Zevian sat down beside him and watched the news broadcast with a frown. “It looks like they’ve converged from every corner of Wyndrah. The local Rippers couldn’t have put together two forces of this size, in such a short time.” He looked at his Ulvari companion. “Idrisar, how exactly did you find out there was a hit on me?”

"Someone in the Zarnian Ulvari branch had the information," obliged Idrisar as he adjusted his glasses. "Our current director informed me while we were working late together."

"And you said the guy you took out had some training," mused Zevian.

Idrisar sighed. “Yes…which means he was either a rogue agent, or the Ulvari guild on the Chalice is inclined to look the other way when their agents take on a contract. I’d like to believe it was the former, but that raises the question of how the information was leaked to them in the first place.”

"So we could be looking at a dirty agency," reasoned Zevian.

Idrisar nodded, lowering his gaze. “Possibly. How exactly did the guild lord of Voldus die? I neglected to ask, in all the chaos.”

"A knife in the back," answered Zevian. "Although it’s possible one of his own people turned on him and tried to put the blame on me. I got accused as soon as I tried to call him."

"Was it of human or lashran make?" questioned the agent.

Zevian shook his head. “I don’t know, I didn’t ask.”

Idrisar could hardly blame him for that. He hadn’t asked for details himself—something that he probably would have thought to do, when he was still a field agent. “Well, it’s too late to find out now. I doubt you’ll be able to reach anyone over there to ask, with what’s happening. I wonder if his death and the attack on you really are connected, or just a coincidence.”

"But didn’t Giddeus die around the same time they began to attack Azirus?" Xellnaise asked.

Erishar nodded in agreement. “That would be a hell of a coincidence. Everything seems to have a pattern, to me.”

"Yes, but it’s possible that they chose to close in on Voldus so soon because they found out the guild lord was killed and they saw an opportunity. The other possibility is the one you mentioned; that one of Mr. Thadden’s own men made a deal with the Rippers and was able to get close enough to him to kill him. We shouldn’t rule it out yet, and I think you might want to consider that risk yourself, Zevian."

The Oricus guild lord looked nonplussed. “I put all my men through a spirit screening process now, Idrisar. I already rooted out two last year that were plotting against me.”

"Then you should screen them all again, just to be sure." Idrisar’s gaze was steady on him. "Zevian, I know you don’t want to even consider the possibility, but you have to be sure none of them will turn on you. Also, bear in mind the things your sire was able to do. I know it’s very unlikely, but what if they happen to have a spirit singer helping them? If any of your men have been manipulated, they likely don’t even know they’re traitors, and neither will you until they get triggered."

Zevian grimaced uncomfortably. “No offense, but you’re sounding slightly paranoid now.”

"Considering all possibilities is part of any investigation," insisted Idrisar with a little smile. "If there’s even the slightest chance of that scenario occurring, you need to rule it out. It’s important that you know you can count on your people, Zevian."

 Xellnaise nodded. “He makes a very good point, Mr. Saber. I’ve been betrayed before and so have you.”

"Right," sighed Zevian. "Well, I might as well start after breakfast. If I do it early enough, I should get through all of them by the end of the day."

 

* * *

While Zevian went through the screening process again with all of his men, one at a time, Idrisar stayed by his side just in case. Xellnaise stayed on top of the news broadcast and checked in throughout the day to tell them what was going on so far. The Rippers hadn’t yet managed to take over Voldus, but they were gaining ground. There had been no word from Antyan, his crew or his associates yet, so all they could do on that front was wait. Whitney busied herself with watercolor painting throughout most of the day, and she gave Xellnaise a sullen pout when he took her phone away and told her she couldn’t call any of her friends.

"It isn’t safe, darling," he explained. "I’m getting rid of my phone too, and we’ll purchase new ones while we’re here. They could use our old ones to trace us, and I can’t be sure we’re out of danger yet."

Erishar watched the exchange silently, keeping his thoughts to himself. When the girl left her adopted father to go back to her artwork, he offered a quiet compliment to him. “That was a smart move. I was going to suggest you do that, but you saved me the trouble.”

Xellnaise sighed and put the phones into a bag, to be tossed into the nearest body of water whenever possible. He turned to look at the lishere with troubled eyes, and Erishar stared into them with covert fascination. He’d never met anyone with heterochromic eyes before, and each of them were a pretty color. Topaz blue on the left, jade green on the right; they were quite interesting.

"I’ve begun to learn how to think a little more like a guild lord," said the silver-haired stargazer softly, "at least enough to consider what a man like Zevian might do if he were in my position. I’m afraid I’ll never quite master the attitude, though."

Erishar’s gaze was drawn to the crystal earrings dangling from Xellnaise’s lobes. “You don’t need the attitude, just the street smarts. Your appearance, for example; you should change it.”

Xellnaise frowned and glanced down at his white and gray ensemble. “Is there something wrong with the way I dress?”

Erishar examined the combination of gray, knee-high boots, white form-fitting pants and a gray vest over a long-sleeved white shirt. “Not unless you want every killer within sight recognizing you on the spot,” explained the lishere. “Though they’re more likely to go after Saber, now that they’ve succeeded in taking over your island. Still, they could have people watching for you to get rid of you, to eliminate the possibility that you’ll try to regain control of your island. Try switching to darker clothes, and ditch the sparklies. You stick out.”

Xellnaise got a bit flustered. “I didn’t realize I was that…conspicuous.”

"Most people wouldn’t, ‘till someone pointed it out to them." Erishar pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning up against, and he approached the exiled guild lord with purpose. Xellnaise involuntarily tensed when the lishere reached out to put his hands on his waist.

"Er…mind telling me what—"

"I’d say you’re of a size and height with me, roughly," said Erishar contemplatively. He met Xellnaise’s confused gaze again. "Come to the bedroom. We can find something of mine for you to where when we go to the market; something somber and understated. You can buy a new wardrobe while we’re out—at least enough clothes to get you by until you’re out of danger from the Rippers."

"W-wait," protested the guild lord as he was practically dragged by his bodyguard into the bedroom he was sharing with him.

 

* * *

Erishar paid him no mind. He closed the door behind them and he went to the bag he’d brought off the ship with him. He selected a few things from inside it and tossed them casually at Xellnaise. “There, see if those fit you. I think your feet might be bigger than mine, so footwear will have to wait for when we get the chance to go to the market.”

Xellnaise stared with his mouth agape. The unpredictable lishere had allowed him the privacy to change clothes that morning and the night before, but now he seemed to expect him to just…strip. “Would you mind giving me a moment alone?”

Erishar tilted his head, and then he seemed to understand the problem. For a split second, he looked embarrassed. “I’ll just step out into the hallway.”

Xellnaise waited until he was gone and the door was closed, before he began to undress. “What a peculiar young man,” he mused to himself. Still, he found him interesting. He knew nothing about Erishar beyond his status as Captain Darshaw’s first mate and his apparent spirit singing abilities, though. He pondered the young man’s unusualness as he changed into the clothing offered to him, and he glanced in the tall mirror as he finished dressing. The pants fit fine, but the shirt was a little tight across the chest. He frowned at the dull picture he made, unused to seeing himself in such dark colors. It made the silver tone of his hair stand out more and it seemed to bring out the color of his eyes, but it definitely looked like a different person staring back at him.

"I’m finished changing," he called to the door.

Erishar came back in and eyed him critically. He walked up to him and he reached out to remove the crystal drop earrings. He did it so deftly that Xellnaise hardly noticed they were gone, until he saw them lying in the lishere’s palm. He looked down at them, before meeting the piercing green eyes. He kept staring, fascinated by the way the wavy, thick mass of black, white-streaked hair framed the attractive face and complimented the emerald color of his eyes.

"Nothing that flashes or sparkles," said the lishere softly. He took one of the sire’s hands and turned it over, so that he could drop the earrings into his palm. He closed his fingers over Xellnaise’s, guiding him to hold the jewelry as his flashing green eyes took in the rest of his appearance. "You should start combing your hair back and wearing it in a ponytail, if you don’t want to cut it short. The style you favor becomes you, but it’s very…you. You don’t want to be you, right now."

Xellnaise blinked. “I don’t want to be…oh, I see. I…I suppose I could cut it short.”

"You don’t have to."

Xellnaise wasn’t sure, but he thought he detected some haste in the lishere’s tone. “Well then, the ponytail. What else would you suggest?”

"A pair of shades…colored contacts would be even better. Your eyes are very distinct." Erishar stared into said eyes, tilting his head slightly in that way of his that Xellnaise was becoming familiar with. "They’re sure to list your unusual eye color as part of your description for any contract seekers looking for you. They’ll be a dead giveaway to anyone coming close enough to get a good look at them."

"Well, wearing shades at all times might make me seem shifty," reasoned Xellnaise.

Erishar smirked. “You’re in Zarn. Practically everyone on these islands is shifty.”

Xellnaise smiled a little at that and shrugged. “True enough, but the contacts do seem like a more reliable method of hiding my eye color. Shades can fall off.”

The lishere nodded. “Yes, they can. So, let’s go into town and get the things you’re going to need.”

"Right now? We haven’t had dinner yet."

"There are places to eat in town," said Erishar negligently. "I want to get this done before any _real_ trouble reaches Oricus.”

"When you put it that way—"

Xellnaise was ushered out the door before he could even finish speaking. He hastily called out to Whitney and told her to be good for Mr. Saber, promising that he’d be back in a few hours. She poked her head around the door and reminded him to buy new cell phones for the both of them, and she asked that he bring her back a fruit smoothie.

 

* * *

"There," said Zevian in exhausted tones. "That was the last one."

"Thank the ancestors," came the low, heartfelt response.

"So, are you satisfied now?" inquired Zevian, leaning back in his chair.

"Mm-hmm. I feel better with that potential threat ruled out."

Now alone in his study with his Ulvari companion, Zevian turned in his chair to look at him. Idrisar was reclining on the sofa in the corner of the room, looking rather tired himself. His pale blue shirt matched his eyes and he’d unbuttoned the collar over the course of the day. They’d taken little bathroom and refreshment breaks here and there, but for the most part their entire day had been spent cooped up in the room where Zevian did most of his paperwork and private calls. Noticing the sheen of perspiration on the agent’s face, it occurred to Zevian that the heat of this time of year was starting to bother him. He was so used to it that he hardly noticed it anymore, but Idrisar was used to milder summers.

"You look hot."

Idrisar lifted his head off the back of the lounge and gave him a look. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

Zevian laughed. “I meant temperature-wise.” He got up and turned the ceiling fan on. “Sorry about that, Idrisar. I’ll turn the thermostat down so we can make this place a little more comfortable for you.”

"I’d like to say it isn’t a big deal, but I’d honestly appreciate it at this point," sighed the Ulvari. "You look perfectly comfortable. I hate you for that."

The guild lord grinned and shut the curtains to keep the afternoon sun out. “I grew up in this climate. If it makes you feel any better, I wear more layers than an onion whenever I’m in Avras or Rhuidhim during fall or winter.”

He gave the agent a leisurely scan with his eyes. “You’re welcome to take your shirt off if you want. I wouldn’t complain.”

Idrisar narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re going to turn that thermostat _up_ instead of _down_ , just to make me desperate enough to do that, aren’t you?”

Zevian snapped his fingers. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Idrisar favored him with an amused smile. “I wouldn’t put it past you to come up with something like that.”

"When I was younger, maybe," agreed the sire, "but then again, we didn’t _have_ central air back in those days.”

He walked over to the lounge and offered a hand to Idrisar. When the lifebearer took it, he helped him up and he gave him a more somber look. “Hey, while you’re staying here I want you to make yourself at home. If it gets too hot, go ahead and crank up the AC. Raid the liquor cabinet or the wine cellar at will, go through the pantries…whatever you want.” He combed aside Idrisar’s bangs, which were clinging to his forehead.

"Wow, you really _are_ overheated,” Zevian murmured.

On impulse, he blew gently against his flushed face. Idrisar closed his eyes and sighed at the small relief, and Zevian silently longed to pull his shirt off and rub ice cubes all over his bare chest and stomach. He bottled his lust and he stepped back with an inviting smile, nodding at the door. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get something cold to drink and cool this house down.”

"Ice water with a bit of lemon would be great," agreed the agent.

Knowing he wasn’t big on drinking alcoholic beverages when he was on an assignment—and that was more or less what Idrisar considered this endeavor to be—Zevian didn’t try to push something with a little more kick on him. They left the study together and Zevian paused at the downstairs thermostat in passing. He dropped the temperature on it, and they continued on into the main den. Whitney was on the modular sofa there, watching the news.

Zevian and Idrisar both paused when they noticed that there was no sign of Xellnaise or Erishar, and the girl’s eyes were swimming with tears. Idrisar shooed Zevian away with a murmured suggestion. “I’ll handle this. Why don’t you get our drinks, and bring a soda for her when you come back?”

Zevian gave him a brief pat on the back. “Sounds like a plan. Find out where the hell her old man went.”

Idrisar nodded. “I think she would have come to us if there were anything wrong. Something else is troubling her.”

 

* * *

Idrisar came around the front of the sofa, and he smiled gently at the girl. “May I sit with you?”

Whitney looked up and sniffed, nodding. Idrisar sat down beside her and the moment he looked at the image on the television, he thought he understood. There was a broadcast being filmed from a helicopter circling over Azirus, and the picture showed the Quartz estate in flames.

"They burned our home," said Whitney in a trembling voice. "We didn’t have time to get more than a few things…now it’s gone."

Idrisar reached out and rubbed her slender shoulder. “Whitney, I know how painful this must be for you, but your sire has the means to have a new home built for you, once you settle in another location. He did the right thing, getting you both out of there and calling the evacuation.”

"But my friends," she protested. "We might not ever be able to go back, and I d-don’t even know if any of them got away."

The agent sighed softly, aching for her. He would have liked to promise her that rescue teams would be sent in to help people escape. He would have liked to tell her that the civilians might be spared and could later be liberated, but the whole reason he was here to begin with was because when it came to Zarn, the rest of the world tended to mind its own business…except to get a good scoop for a news broadcast.

Rather than tell her a lie, Idrisar offered a bit of hope in the form of truth. “Voldus is still holding, and Oricus hasn’t been hit. The Chalice will offer sanctuary to any lashran refugees and Mr. Saber will offer it to the rest. They’ll identify all incoming asylum seekers and put them on record. We can make a list of all your friends and keep an eye on those records, if you like.”

She looked at him uncertainly. “You know how to do that?”

Idrisar nodded. “I do.”

"But why wouldn’t anyone help us?" she demanded. "Those other pirates are all that came."

"Because the pirates that helped you were the only ones that knew it was coming," he answered, "and I believe they are doing what they can to help, but right now, they’re outnumbered."

"But other people know now," she insisted, "and they _still_ aren’t helping!”

Idrisar lowered his gaze. “I know. Some of them want to help, but can’t. Others are too afraid of the people that attacked your home. You need to try and be brave, though…for your Dad. He loves you very much and I’m sure all he was thinking about in the end was getting you safely out of there, before it was too late. I don’t know him very well, but from what I’ve seen, I know he’d lay down his life for you.”

She sniffled again and wiped her eyes, nodding. “I know.”

Idrisar smiled and stroked her dark, curly hair. “Then try to be brave for him. Just remember that you can replace your house and all your possessions, but you can’t replace him.”

Whitney nodded and gave him a tremulous smile. “Okay.”

"Good girl," approved Idrisar. "And speaking of your Dad, where did he run off to?"

"Shopping," she sighed, "and he didn’t even ask me to come with him!"

Idrisar’s lips twitched with amusement. Denying a girl approaching her teens the opportunity to shop was a grave offense, indeed. “He probably felt you’d be safer here, for now. I’m sure he’ll bring you back something nice.”

Zevian returned with a drink tray; which he sat down on the glass coffee table. Idrisar thanked him and handed Whitney her soda, before taking his glass of ice water. Zevian cast a curious glance her way, before taking a seat adjacent to them. “Everything okay here?”

Idrisar glanced at the girl. “They burned down the Quartz home. It was just being broadcasted live from a helicopter.”

Zevian glanced at the TV, which was now playing commercials. “Probably ransacked it, first.”

Idrisar gave him a rough nudge with his foot and glared at him.

"Uh, which means all the good stuff probably didn’t get destroyed," amended Zevian, trying to reword it in a way that was less insensitive, "just stolen. Stolen is better than lost, sweetheart."

Surprisingly, his observation seemed to give Whitney a little bit of hope. “So we could get some of it back?”

Zevian nodded. “I could even lend a hand in that, once we get this Ripper problem back under control. I can’t make any promises yet, but don’t give up hope.”

Idrisar nodded in agreement, relieved that Zevian didn’t make a promise he might not be able to keep. He definitely had a different approach to dealing with kids, but he didn’t lie to them and that was a good thing. He sipped his water and thought of his six-year-old, and his grandsons. Checking the time, he deduced that it was early morning in Avras.

"Can you both excuse me for a little while? I’d like to check on my family back home."

Zevian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Go ahead, Idrisar. We’ll find something to watch on the tube, or if that fails, we’ll come up with something else to do.”

 

* * *

Xellnaise returned to the estate to find his daughter playing poker with Zevian Saber, of all things. He dropped his bags and approached with his mouth agape. “What are you doing?” Erishar came up behind him, and he watched the exchange curiously while holding more shopping bags in his hands.

Whitney looked up from her side of the coffee table, and then she glanced down at the cards in her hand. “I’m playing five card stud with Mr. Saber. You should play too, Daddy!”

Xellnaise shook his head, his ponytail swinging with the motion. “Absolutely not! Zevian, I do not want my daughter gambling!”

Zevian looked up from his seat at the edge of the modular couch. “She wasn’t. There weren’t any wagers, so don’t get your tights in a wad.” He looked the stargazer up and down and he frowned, gesturing at him with his forgotten hand of cards. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Xellnaise looked down at himself. “Inconspicuous, dark colors,” he answered in a peevish tone. “I’ve been told I stand out too much in my usual attire. What’s wrong with it this time?”

"Hmm." Zevian smirked and started with the top, just as Idrisar walked back into the den with a fresh glass of ice water. "fedora hat, trenchcoat, sunglasses…" He looked up at Idrisar. "Why don’t I let Agent Blackbird here get this one for me. Idrisar, what’s wrong with this picture?"

The Ulvari agent’s topaz gaze assessed Xellnaise, and his brows were slightly furrowed. “Well, to begin with it’s over a hundred degrees outside by midday, this time of year. You look as though you could melt into a puddle at any moment.”

Xellnaise wiped the sweat from his brow, well-aware of the heat he was suffering. Behind him, Erishar shook his head and smirked.

"Where did you even _find_ those?” puzzled Idrisar.

"There was an imports shop on the corner of Lattice street and Cherrywood," answered Xellnaise.

"Well, you should have skipped it," said Zevian. "Not only are you going to cook in that getup, but you look like a nark. Way to draw more attention to yourself, Quartz."

Xellnaise looked at Idrisar with bewilderment. “I do?”

The lifebearer nodded. “In this part of the world, yes. Especially in this heat. You look like you’re trying to hide something and while nearly every resident on this island has something to hide themselves, it’s usually nothing to do with legal authorities.” He smiled. “I was wearing something similar, the first time I came here on a case. Do you remember, Zevian?”

The guild lord chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. Once I realized you were all right, I told you that you’d better change into something less official looking while you were in Zarn, otherwise someone might shoot you down just for the hell of it.” He looked up at Xellnaise. “You ought to know better, Quartz. What were you thinking?”

Xellnaise removed his hat and dropped it on the nearby lounger chair, and then he took his jacket off. “Well, I suppose I was thinking I had to change my look, as advised by my bodyguard.” He looked at Erishar with an accusing expression. “You should have said something.”

"I did," defended the lishere. "I said you should rethink it, and you said you’d always wanted a trench coat and chose to get it anyway. You never asked for a specific reason why I advised against it."

Xellnaise sighed. “Well, what about the rest? You picked some of that out yourself.”

Erishar nodded. “I did. The rest of it is fine. I think you should start getting used to wearing the contacts, right away.”

"Let me see what you got," Zevian requested, getting out of his seat. He looked into the first bag as Erishar held it open for him, and he pulled out the first two items to inspect them. Nodding at the burgundy shirt and brown pants, he rummaged through the rest. "Yeah, this will work. You can still wear some white and monotones if you want to, but stay away from the ‘fairy king’ look and you should be fine."

“‘Fairy King’?” repeated Xellnaise under his breath.

Zevian gathered his forgotten bags and dumped them in his arms. “Go put them away and hang up your coat. The cut’s fine; I wear trenches in the winter myself. Not in the summer, though, and not with that hat, those pants and the mirrored shades.”

"I’ll help you put them away, Daddy," offered Whitney. She took one of the bags from Erishar, and she looked up at her sire with a suddenly morose expression. "We have to talk about something, too. You aren’t going to like it."

 

* * *

Xellnaise was once again ushered off, and Erishar’s phone started to ring just as father and daughter made it upstairs. He put it to his ear and answered it, and his gaze flicked to Zevian. “Aye, Capn’, he’s here. No, he’s gone upstairs with his daughter to discuss something, so I’m giving them a few moments alone. Yes sir, I’ll tell them. Tomorrow? Aye, I’ll make time for him. Good luck.”

Erishar ended the call and he looked at Zevian. “The Council of the Wayfarers is underway. They’re going to discuss the situation with the other two islands and decide what to do about it.”

"And how long will that take?" Zevian asked.

The lishere shrugged fluidly. “I’d caution you to expect two days, if not more. Pirates aren’t known for coming to an agreement quickly, unless there’s more profit to be had than loss. The Rippers have been planning this. They want control of these islands—or as much as they can get through sheer strength of numbers and arms. Those were Captain Darshaw’s words I just quoted, by the way. He told me to advise you to keep concentrating on the defense of your sea boarders, while the Wayfarers protect the routes and organize. They’re still expecting more potential allies, and how they move from there depends on how quickly those allies come, and how readily they lend their efforts.”

Zevian nodded, familiar enough with the way the Cartels ran things to see the logic in it all. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

"If it’s not too bold for me to ask," Idrisar said, "who is it that you’re supposed to be making time for?"

"My mentor," answered the lishere. His emerald gaze met the agent’s. "As I said before; I’m still in the process of training. That doesn’t stop just because I have this assignment. I hope you’ll allow him on the grounds, Mr. Saber."

Zevian frowned briefly. “His name isn’t Matthias, is it?”

Erishar shook his head. “No.”

"Then he’s welcome to come and tutor you."

 

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have problems."

Antyan’s booted feet strode quietly over the wooden floor as he circled the assembly of pirate lords, and he nodded at the strategic map spread out over the long table.

"Azirus has fallen to the Rippers, and it’s almost a certainty that Voldus will be next. You’ve been summoned here to protect your better interests, not to play the role of saviors. Many of you have made your fortunes through trade and the black market via these islands."

There were murmurs of agreement, and he paused to let his golden cat-eyes sweep over the gathering. “The island lords have always been the buffer between the Wayfarers and our competition. While none of us care one way or the other about peace, we should take into consideration what will become of our investments in the Zarn islands, should the Rippers gain complete control over them.”

"The Rippers aren’t likely to cut us any good deals, if they get to run the show," announced a deceptively young looking woman with fair skin, long black hair and stormy gray eyes. "I say we drive them back, before they overtake Voldus."

Antyan nodded. “And then we have to decide what’s to be done about Azirus. The island lord that ran it is unseated, but not dead. Do we help him take it back and regain his seat of power, or do we satisfy ourselves with securing Voldus and leave Azirus to the Rippers? Bear it in mind that there will be heavier losses, if we choose the former.”

"I don’t think we should call it a ‘seat of power’," said one ginger-haired human with a snort. He shrugged at the map and looked around with dark blue eyes. "Face it, Xellnaise Quartz was always a weak leader to begin with."

"But he was fair with trading," pointed out Aurora, "and a lot of us have investments tied up in Azirus that aren’t going to be giving any payouts, with him gone."

"But how much of those payouts are we going to spend on repairs and rebuilding, if we try to drive the Rippers out?" someone asked. "Is it worth the losses we’ll have?"

"That is the question we all need to ask ourselves, before we make further plans," Antyan said. "I think we have an accord on securing Voldus before it’s lost, aye?"

There were nods all around, though some heads seemed reluctant to bob. The Wayfarers were a melting pot of human, lashran and even a few lishere pirates. Men and women who agreed to work together as a cartel and split the profits, both for protection and practicality. The Rippers had taught them that solitary smuggling was too risky, these days. Many of them had lost ships and cargo to the older cartel, attacked on route and overwhelmed because the Rippers always traveled in packs. Nowadays, they would mostly leave alone any ship flying Wayfarer colors, but sometimes the temptation to attack a lone vessel and take the spoils proved too great for them to resist. They never sank or captured Wayfarer ships anymore when they subdued them, but the profit loss from having goods swiped was painful enough.

"These assholes are long past due for an ass-kicking," said an attractive blond man with neatly trimmed hair and a goatee. He had a pretty brunet woman in leather and lace fawning over him. "I think it’s time we take them down a peg and show them they aren’t the only power in these waters."

Many of the others banged their mugs on the table in agreement. Antyan fed the black owl perched on his shoulder a morsel from the meat tray in the center of it, and then he whispered something to her in Zarnian. She hooted and flew off to perch on her nesting branch, settling comfortably onto it before closing her great, golden eyes.

"How long have you had that bird, Darshaw?" asked the blond man who’d boasted about kicking Ripper ass. "I’ve looked all over for black owls, but I’ve never found one in captivity."

"Nor will you," said the lashran pirate, "and I’ve had her since before you ever met me, to answer your question."

"Must be one long-lived bird," said the ginger with surprise.

Antyan smirked slightly. “Aye.”

"How much would you want for it?" asked the blond.

Antyan met his gaze levelly. “She isn’t for sale, Eric.”

The blond faltered a little, but Eric Charles wasn’t known for always having good sense. “Hypothetically, then. If you _were_ willing to sell it, how much?”

Antyan made a quick gesture, and a knife whistled through the air to embed itself deeply into the highback chair that Captain Charles was sitting in. The girl in his lap yelped and jumped up hastily, while Eric himself stared at the quivering blade with wide eyes. Another inch, and it might have gotten him in the throat.

"You have neither the coin nor the character to be worthy of calling yourself Tenja’s ‘owner’," stated Antyan coolly. "She’s not a pet to be bartered, so get the notion out of your head."

The blond pirate swallowed. “Don’t get so upset…I was only curious.”

"I’d like my knife back…please."

Eric obligingly pried it from the chair with a little grunt of effort. He examined the black, carbon steel blade for a moment, then looked at Antyan. For a brief moment, he seemed to contemplate throwing it back—but then his common sense kicked in and he got up to walk the knife over to him. Antyan took it with a little bow, his cold gaze remaining on the blond for another instant before he slipped it into his thin jacket and turned on his heel.

"You should all take some time to think about it and discuss it, before we draw out our plan of action further," advised Antyan as Aurora got out of her seat and followed him to the door. "We’ll take a recess."

 

* * *

"Well played," complimented Aurora as she walked beside her half-brother to the outside of the meeting hub. "Direct and to the point; but you’ve always been that way."

"Not very subtle, though," remarked another voice from the side of the building, just as the pair set foot on the docks.

They both turned to see a tall man with silky, milk white hair falling all the way to the backs of his knees. His facial features were quite beautiful, with narrow brows, large, midnight-dark eyes and thick white lashes framing them. His plush lips were shapely and they smiled in a teasing manner at Antyan as he approached, his soft brown boots hardly making a sound. His green embroidered, black shirt had buttons all up the front and long sleeves, and it molded to his waist before loosening up at the bottom to fall past his knees over deep green pants that were nearly black. His hair was pulled back on the sides to reveal pointed ears, free of any piercings.

"I enjoyed that, Antyan," he said, his top garment flapping around his legs in the breeze as he approached. "You’ve never suffered fools gladly."

Aurora snorted. “He’s never suffered fools at all.” She grinned and hugged the lishere. “Good to see you again, Rhinan. I didn’t even know you were in there with us. It’s been four years since I last saw you, and you haven’t changed a bit.”

"I was hiding," whispered Rhinan in a conspiring tone, patting her back. "And yes, it’s been a little over four years. I may not have changed in appearance, but you have." He stroked her dark hair, which fell almost as long as Antyan’s to her mid-back. "The last time, you had a pixie cut."

"I’m debating whether to leave it long or cut it short again," she sighed. "It grows so damned fast."

"You could always tie it up in a bun," suggested the spirit singer. He released her and looked to Antyan. "Well, I’m more or less on schedule. Since nothing’s begun yet, I’ll make arrangements to see my pupil. He’s in Oricus, isn’t he?"

Antyan nodded, his amber gaze holding a hint of warmth as it met Rhinan’s. “You’ll find him at Zevian Saber’s estate. You’re already expected, so there shouldn’t be any trouble.”

"Good." Rhinan sighed, and he reached out to brush a feather from Antyan’s shoulder. "I’m sorry to say my associates on the Chalice have refused to have any part of this. They insist on remaining ‘neutral’, unless a direct attack on their island is made."

Antyan shrugged. “I expected as much. Thank you for trying, though. When you finish on Oricus…Rhinan, are you listening?”

"Oh, look; a butterfly!" The white-haired man who was once granted the rank of "Spirit Keeper" found himself distracted by the colorful insect, which had somehow wandered from greener areas to the docks.

Aurora chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Some things never change. I’ll give you two some privacy and go back in for a drink, lad.”

Antyan nodded, and when he looked at his white-haired companion again, he shook his head and smirked. “Rhinan.”

At the patient utterance of his name, the lishere tore his attention away from the butterfly and looked at Antyan with ridiculously innocent, dark eyes. “Hmm?”

"I was saying that I want you to come right back to this cove, when you’ve finished your business in Oricus. We should be ready to converge by then, but if it appears we’ll start sooner, I’ll call you. Do you have your phone?"

Rhinan patted his pocket and nodded. “Of course.”

"Good." Antyan hesitated, glancing around to be sure they were relatively alone. There were people working the docks, but they were busy with other things. Satisfied, he put his arms around his companion’s narrow waist and spoke in a low murmur. "Watch yourself. We have the waters between here and Oricus fairly secured, but you know how the Rippers are."

Rhinan’s distracted expression sharpened, and he nodded with a little frown. “Yes, I do. I think _you_ are more tolerant of them than _I_ am, these days. That’s a lovely bit of irony.”

"Agreed." Antyan sighed, not looking forward to yet more long, verbal exchanges as the meeting commenced.

"You wish you could come with me," guessed Rhinan, a sparkle lighting his eyes. He tucked a wayward, blowing strand of midnight hair behind one of Antyan’s ears and he caressed his face. "Be patient with them. It takes more words for them to comprehend some things. They don’t have your gifts of observation."

"I know, but it’s damned inconvenient," muttered the pirate.

He stroked his partner’s hair and he quietly wished they could spend more time together, before things got intense again. They’d hardly _seen_ each other in the past three months, but that was to be expected with all the trouble in the world now. Seeing that Rhinan’s small white passenger ship was waiting at the end of the dock, he took the initiative and closed the distance between their lips. Rhinan put his arms around him and returned the kiss with feeling—a silent promise to make up for their time apart, as soon as they had the opportunity.

 

* * *

To be continued


	4. Chapter 3

* * *

 

That night, Idrisar had nightmares. Unaware that he was struggling in his sleep with his own imagination, he started to cry out. He heard someone calling his name and he felt something poke him in the side. He slapped it away and sat up, the claws of his Mokalor springing free to defend him from the threat.

"Easy," soothed a familiar, masculine voice. "It’s just me, kid."

Shaking disheveled bangs out of his eyes, the agent looked up to see Zevian Saber standing over him, his aqua gaze glowing faintly in the dark. He had a look of concern on his handsome, blurred features, and he held a steel fighting staff in one hand. The end of it was covered with…something.

"Saber," muttered Idrisar groggily, rubbing his eyes. He reached for the glasses on the bedside table and put them on, peering curiously at the object in the guild lord’s hand. It was a sock on the end of the staff. "What’s that for?" He nodded at it, finding the situation more than a little peculiar.

Zevian glanced down at the sock-covered end, before leaning the staff against the wall with a shrug. “You were thrashing around like all your demons had come for you in your sleep. You had me worried you might hurt yourself, so I thought I should wake you up…but I’m not stupid enough to touch you when you’re in that state. The last thing I need is a trip to the hospital because my own bodyguard sliced me to ribbons.”

"So you poked me with that, instead?" Idrisar nodded at the staff, smirking.

"Hey, I put a sock on it first so I wouldn’t be prodding you with cold steel." Zevian crossed his arms over his toned chest, smiling crookedly. "You ought to take it as a compliment, Blackbird. I respect the damage you can do enough to use a poking device to wake you up."

The agent chuckled softly, amused. “Which was probably the smart thing to do. I’d have felt really awful if I’d hurt you by accident.”

"As opposed to hurting me on purpose?" challenged Zevian with a twinkle in his eye.

Idrisar sobered a bit, meeting his gaze. “I’d never hurt you on purpose, Zevian…not unless I had no other choice.”

Zevian sobered as well, lowering his gaze. “I appreciate that, gorgeous. So, are you okay now? Want to talk about your nightmare?”

With a little frown, Idrisar rubbed his forehead. “I don’t remember what it was about.” Probably the usual; Tsyther, his deceased mates, feelings of helplessness…he shivered. “Thank you for your concern, though.”

"As long as you’re all right," answered Zevian. "If you need anything, just wake me up. I won’t mind."

He started back to the couch, but Idrisar stopped him with a soft utterance. “Zevian? You don’t need to sleep on the couch.”

The guild lord turned, looking at him with subtly wary interest. “I’m not switching with you, Idrisar.”

"I’m not talking about that." Idrisar pulled the covers down on the other side of the bed and he patted the mattress. "We can share the bed. I trust you not to try anything."

Zevian looked at the spot he was patting with obvious longing, but his face bore an expression of uncertainty. “You’re sure about this? You’re not worried about me poking you with something else…I mean accidentally.”

Idrisar favored him with a soft smile and a nod. “I’m sure. You may be the king of flirts, but you’ve always been a gentleman when it counts. I…”

_~I don’t want to sleep in a big, empty bed. I miss feeling a sire’s warmth next to mine.~_

He couldn’t finish the sentence verbally, but he must have inadvertently communicated his wishes through his eyes, because Zevian’s wary expression eased and a tender look came into his eyes. Idrisar was usually quite good at shielding his thoughts from spirit singers and sorcerers alike, but it was harder with Zevian. The trust they shared, the attraction and their feelings made him speak silently what he couldn’t bring his lips to say.

"All right, Idrisar," said Zevian softly. "If that’s what you want, we’ll give it a try and I’ll do my best to keep my hands from wandering in my sleep. I just want to warn you though…I might cuddle you through no fault of my own. I got used to that while Azurel was here, so—"

"I’ll take my chances," said Idrisar dryly. "Now come to bed, so we can both get to sleep."

The sire approached, and Idrisar avoided letting his eyes wander over his tanned, half-nude physique as he climbed into the other side of the bed and lay down. Idrisar removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand again, before rolling over to face his companion. He burrowed his right arm under the pillow and he scooted closer to him.

"You can cuddle me now if you want," offered the lifebearer.

Zevian’s brows went up, surprise plain on his face. “You sure you’re still awake, Blackbird?” He looked at the claw weapon still secured over the agent’s left hand. “And hey, I trust you but what if those claws pop out in the middle of the night and spear my lungs…or something else?”

Idrisar’s shoulders trembled with silent laughter. “Fine, I’ll take it off. My gun is within easy reach and I’m so used to this thing, I can slip it on faster than a glove if anyone attacks us. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He smirked softly to himself as he removed the specialized hand weapon and heard Zevian’s sigh of relief as he set it next to his glasses. He turned around again and wriggled up to Zevian’s warm, strong body with a sigh. The sire lay utterly still as Idrisar put an arm around his waist and lay his head against his chest. Idrisar tilted his head back to gaze at him and he felt a little sorry for him when he saw the uncertain look on his shadowed face.

"It’s okay," he assured him. "I’m certainly not going to get mad at you over something I initiated. I just want to be held."

Inwardly, he wondered what in the hell he thought he was doing. This wasn’t professional, nor was it appropriate. It was a bad idea, and—

Then Zevian’s arm went around him to pull him closer, and everything just felt…right. The sire nuzzled his hair and rubbed his back through his t-shirt, saying with his body language that he would protect him, even though Idrisar was technically the protector, here. Deciding to deal with his guilty feelings for unprofessional behavior in the morning, Idrisar sighed and relaxed, allowing himself to be comforted by his companion’s embrace and the feel of his lips gently brushing against his forehead. It seemed Zevian had a talent for giving lifebearers exactly what they wanted or needed, even when that need wasn’t sexual.

"Thank you," whispered Idrisar sleepily, just before he drifted off into slumber, blessedly free of nightmares.

He was already asleep when Zevian responded softly. “Anything for you, Id.”

 

* * *

While Idrisar and Zevian slept, Xellnaise and his bodyguard stayed up late to look at the stars from the balcony of the room they shared.

"And what’s that one?" Erishar pointed at the next constellation.

Xellnaise followed the direction of his pointing finger and he smiled. “Ah, that’s Draco Minor. If you follow the star path this way—” he demonstrated by tracing the sky with his finger—”you can see how it shapes a small dragon.”

Erishar nodded. “I see it. Is there a Draco Major?”

"Yes, there is! It’s…well, it’s not visible from our point of view, but it rises on the other side of the horizon." Xellnaise traced the sky with his fingertip and turned around. He was a little startled by the lishere’s proximity, and he blinked at the vivid green eyes, so close to his. "It would be…that way…roughly."

My, he was a quite, sneaky fellow. Xellnaise didn’t realize he was practically breathing down his neck, until he turned around. He watched those mesmerizing eyes glance in the general direction he indicated, and he felt a bit disoriented now that they weren’t holding him in their emerald depths.

"Had some Ulvari training, have you?" he guessed.

"Mm? No." Erishar shook his head. "I’ve never set foot in any academy or received any formal agency training. Why do you ask?"

Xellnaise tried to think of how to put it into words, without accusing him of being a creeper. “Well, you just move so silently. I scarce hear you, half the time.”

The lishere smiled faintly. “My mentor and the Captain taught me almost everything I know. Captain Darshaw is very light on his feet, and he tutored me on moving silently until it became second nature to me. In pirate circles they call him ‘the panther’, because you often don’t know he’s there until it’s too late. I think half of them believe he’s actually part feline.”

The sire chuckled. “You seem fond of him.”

Erishar shrugged. “He’s been like a parent to me, and so has Rhinan.”

"Rhinan?" repeated Xellnaise.

"My spirit singing mentor," explained the lishere. "I was heading down a bad road when they found me. They showed me a different path and the Captain made me one of his crew…gave me a purpose. Before that, I was living on the streets in Ocathia, spending most of my earnings from odd jobs on…well, you don’t need to hear that story."

"But I’m interested," assured Xellnaise, feeling like he was finally starting to get to know this young man. "I understand if your past is too painful to talk about, though."

Erishar lowered his gaze, the dark sweep of his lashes veiling his eyes. “Not painful, just sordid. I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you, though. I was a different person then and Rhinan always says that one should never bury their past, else they might forget their mistakes and make them again.”

Xellnaise nodded. “Good advice.”

Erishar raised his eyes and studied him. “I would have people judge me on the person I am now, rather than who I was then.”

"Of course," agreed the stargazer. "Everyone has things in their past they regret. Surely your mistakes weren’t any worse than mine, or the men I’ve employed during my time as a guild lord."

"Hmm. Well, I was a drug addict," admitted Erishar. He looked up at the sky and the starlight reflected in his eyes. "Opium. I was strung out when they happened upon me. I still don’t know how they found me in that alley, but to this day I swear it was as if they were seeking me out. They got me clean and they told me there was a better way to handle the voices in my head."

"Voices in your head?" Xellnaise raised his brows, dearly hoping this interesting lishere wasn’t mentally deranged.

"The spirit voices," explained Erishar.

"Oh, those." Xellnaise relaxed, feeling foolish for not catching that. "Yes, I have no experience with that myself, but from what I understand they can be enough to drive those with the gift mad, if they don’t learn how to muffle them."

"Exactly," sighed Erishar. "I was…on the brink. The opium was the only thing that gave me some peace and quiet in my head."

Xellnaise frowned in sympathy. “What of your parents? They never enrolled you for training or noticed something was wrong?”

"I was an orphan. I don’t remember either of my parents…if they’re even alive anymore. I was at least fortunate that in Ocathia, lishere are regarded as no worse than lashran. The humans there don’t exactly hate either of us, but they don’t generally associate with us much, either. To them, we’re all strange and alien creatures. Some can be generous, though. I did make some friends, but the orphanage kicked me out at the age of eighteen to make my way in the world, and none of my friends could help me."

Xellnaise reached out impulsively to lay a hand over the younger man’s shoulder. “That sounds like a very lonely life you lived, back then.”

Erishar shrugged. “It was, but it taught me to be resourceful. I wasn’t alone for that long, really. I was on the streets for perhaps five years, before Captain Darshaw and Rhinan found me. By then I was…very unstable, as I said.”

 

* * *

As he told the exiled guild lord about his past, Erishar relived that key moment when they found him, in his head. He didn’t know why he was telling Xellnaise so much about his life, except that the man had a sympathetic, bright aura that made him feel oddly safe. He’d never spoken to anyone of his past before, save his mentors. He closed his eyes and pictured everything as if it had occurred yesterday.

_He was lying in the alley, covered in dust from a recent sandstorm that had hit the town he lived in. He’d had to take shelter in that alley, huddled in the doorway of a storage building with his hood pulled up and his face pressed against the boarded door. The howling of the wind was worse than the howling of the spirit voices in his head, and his jacket was scoured by the whipping sand. When it was over, he finished off the last of his stash and he lay there bonelessly, letting the drug seep through his system and dull his senses._

_He realized vaguely that he shouldn’t lay there like that all night. The last time he’d taken refuge in an alley, a man with a liking for pretty boys came across him and tried to have his way with him. Erishar’s greater physical strength was all that saved him from being molested, and in this condition, he knew that even a human might be able to overpower him if another one took it into their head to trouble him._

_He heard the muted whispering of the spirits begging him to get up, to seek shelter in the nearest bathhouse for the night, or request a place to sleep at an Inn in exchange for whatever work they needed done in the morning. That was how he usually got his food and shelter; sometimes with a bit extra to spend on the drug that helped calm his head._

_~”Erishar,”~ They whispered, ~”Seek shelter! Not safe!”~_

_He shut them out. The only time he could shut them out this way was when he was stoned. “Tired of listening to you,” he mumbled. “You make my head hurt.”_

_"Get up."_

_Erishar frowned. That was no spirit voice. It was the voice of a living man…deep and resonant. He brushed a hand over his eyes and looked up at the speaker, a familiar sense of dread washing over him. All he could make out at first was a silhouette of a tall man with waist-length, wavy hair. The lamplight from the streets was fuzzy from the particles of dust in the air, and he could taste the dust in his mouth as he took a breath to ask the stranger standing over him what he wanted. He coughed._

_"Don’t mess with me," he warned, his voice coming out a dry wheeze, like an old man’s._

_The_ _stranger squatted down before him, and he found himself gazing into a pair of golden cat eyes, darkening to an almost orange amber at the outer iris. He was a lashran…a sire. The hair spilling out from beneath the pirate hat was black as midnight, as far as he could see. The man’s features were the stuff to make modeling and talent agencies trip over themselves to get him into a contract._

_"I’m not here to ‘mess’ with you," said the sire. "I am here to assist."_

_"Assist in what?" demanded Erishar, slurring. "You make no sense."_

_"Assist you in saving your own arse," answered the man—whom he was pretty sure really was a pirate, not just someone dressed as one. He checked for a Ripper sash and he found none._

_"I’m with the Wayfarers," explained the dark stranger, "not those you’re more familiar with in these parts. Now get up. I won’t ask again."_

_Erishar narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”_

_The sire reached out, caught him by the shoulders and hoisted him up roughly. Erishar cried out as he was shoved against the wall and held there, but his yelp ended with wide-eyed silence as his assailant stared him down. The man had such…presence. Even the spirit voices had gone silent, as if waiting to hear what he would say next._

_"No need to be so rough with the boy, Antyan."_

_Erishar looked to the source of the new voice—a softer, gentler voice—and he saw another tall form approaching. This one’s hair was all the way down to his knees, hanging straight and shining like pearls despite the dust in the air. Gentle, almond-shaped eyes met his as the newcomer stopped beside the black-haired sire; so dark they were like onyx. He appeared to be a sire as well, but his features were more delicate. He wore layered, thin robes on his lean form._

_"Let go of him," said the sire in the robes. "He’s not in the right state of mind to have this talk, love."_

_The one called “Antyan” looked him over, and an unidentifiable emotion briefly rippled over his face. He released Erishar slowly and allowed him to sink down against the wall into a sitting position. “Very well. Erishar, do you have any belongings you’ll need to fetch?”_

_The lishere gaped at him. “For what?”_

_"We’re taking you out of here," said the white-haired man. He knelt down before him and he offered him a gentle smile. "I know what you’re going through, Erishar. I can help you. I can teach you how to quiet those voices in your head, without resorting to this poison now coursing through your veins. Please, let us help."_

_Erishar felt a range of emotions through his haze of Opium that he couldn’t keep up with, and even as the man spoke, his head began to feel clearer. He was doing something to him…making the drug slip away._

_"No…don’t!" He scrambled away from the strangers as the voices began to murmur again. "D-don’t do that! I need it to shut them up!"_

_The white-haired one’s dark gaze softened with pity. “No, you don’t. But if you continue to use this way, you’ll lose your life. If you don’t get the training you need, you’ll lose your sanity. We won’t try to force you, Erishar—”_

_"Yes we will," interjected Antyan sternly. "Don’t lie to him, Rhinan."_

_Rhinan sighed. “All right, we’d rather not force you, but we will if we must. You’re special, Erishar. You have gifts, and your life is worth saving.” He reached out and offered a bronzed hand to him. “I could manipulate your spirit…make you fall asleep so that we can carry you away whether you like it or not…but I would rather you take my hand of your own free will.”_

_Erishar stared at the offered hand, then at its owner. He knew something wasn’t right with him, and it started shortly after he left the orphanage to make his way in the world. His vision blurred and he hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve—and immediately regretted it when he only succeeded in mashing more of the grainy substance clinging to his clothes into his eyes._

_"Here, use this," offered the one called Rhinan._

_Erishar blindly reached for the hanky and he wiped his eyes with it. “What’s the matter with me?”_

_"Nothing," assured Rhinan. "Nothing that can’t be repaired, anyway. You haven’t reached the point of no return yet. Please, let us help you."_

_The lishere looked up at the silent, dark pirate. “How is he going to help me?”_

_"I’ll give you a job," replied Antyan. "Rhinan will tutor you on controlling your abilities, and I’ll tutor you on controlling your body. You’ll learn seafaring, weaponry and discipline with me, and Rhinan will teach you how to quiet those voices on your own, without resorting to drugs."_

_"Most of the time," corrected Rhinan. "Sometimes it will still get bad enough to require medication, but never the harmful kind you’re currently using. Will you come with us, Erishar?"_

_The lishere considered his options. The dark one gave him the impression that he didn’t have a choice in the matter, but he seemed sincere in his desire to offer him an improvement on his life. The light one was like an angel to him, almost…all sympathy and tenderness, wishing only to help. He looked into those dark eyes, and he saw no malice there. He saw warmth, compassion and understanding that nobody had ever shown him before. He gave the one called Antyan one wary glance, and he thought he saw his cold amber gaze soften a little._

_"My life can’t really get much worse," he reasoned. Already, he was starting to feel withdraws. Rhinan had somehow purged the drug from his system, and the voices were getting louder. "Can you shut them up?"_

_Rhinan nodded. “I can, for a time. Once your system is clean, I can offer you a safe medication to quiet them, until you learn to do so yourself. In the meantime, I’ll blanket them for you. Come…please.”_

_Erishar hesitated for a moment longer, while he considered the risk of going with these people against the surety of continued misery. He took Rhinan’s offered hand and he stood up slowly, still eyeing Antyan like a snake about to strike._

_"You really believe you can help me?" he asked as Rhinan put an arm around him to support his shaky legs._

_"Yes," answered the white-haired man, "but first, we need to see you cleaned up, fed, and rested. Lean on me and we’ll take you to the ship."_

_Erishar was already getting drowsy—no doubt the work of the man he was leaning on. “Where are we going?” he asked faintly._

_"Where the wind takes us," replied Antyan._

 

* * *

Erishar came out of his memories with a little start when Xellnaise called his name. He looked at the sire, saw the concern on his face and couldn’t decide whether he was annoyed with or endeared to him for it.

"I’m fine," said the lishere. "I was just thinking of the past."

"I’m sorry if it’s a sore subject for you." Xellnaise looked genuinely contrite. "I only wanted to know more about you, not dredge up painful memories."

Erishar stepped closer to the edge of the balcony and closed his eyes as the warm night breeze caressed him. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about. I volunteered the information, and I’ve put that part of my life behind me. Still, it’s good to revisit the past once in a while. It shows me how far I’ve come.”

Xellnaise smiled and nodded. “I agree.”

Erishar felt a throb of emotional pain from him, and he looked to see him quickly compose his expression. It was his turn for sympathy, though it had no place in his duties as the man’s protector. “I’m sorry they destroyed your home. I’ve never really _had_ one myself, so I didn’t think to console you for the loss of yours. You’ve held up admirably, considering what you’ve endured in such a short time.”

Xellnaise looked slightly surprised, but pleasantly so. The breeze blew his bangs over his eyes and he combed them out of the way before nodding and smiling gently at him. “Thank you, that’s a very gracious thing for you to say. I know Saber considers me a joke, more or less.”

Erishar watched him unblinkingly, reading his spirit—though he knew his mentor would frown upon doing so without the client’s consent. He shook his head. “You have a gentle heart. People with gentle hearts have no place in the Zarnian islands, unless they’re willing to lose them. You aren’t a joke, Mr. Quartz; you’re just misplaced.”

A faint blush stole over the sire’s face; which Erishar found both amusing and delightful. “Thank you…I think. That…was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

The lishere shrugged. “Of a sort, yes. It was also a subtle bit of advice.”

Xellnaise lowered his gaze. “I see. While there’s room for change, I don’t want to become another person entirely. I don’t want to become hardened like the other guild lords; indifferent to suffering and death.”

"Then you should get out, or find someone who’s willing to do the dirty work for you," suggested Erishar. "It will only get worse if we manage to take back your island. The Captain would caution me against telling you so, but I think I should be honest with you. If you retake the seat in Azirus, you’re going to have to become ruthless…calculating…cold. The Rippers are most active there and they’d kill you while shaking your hand on a trade contract. You have to be willing to and prepared to do the same to them, or this will just happen all over again."

Erishar sighed and leaned against the balustrade. “Of course, that’s assuming we can even liberate Azirus from their hands in the first place.”

"What happens if you do," hedged Xellnaise, "and I’m not willing to resume my duties as guild lord there?"

The lishere smirked at him. “Then the Wayfarers will take over and hold it for as long as we can. The thing is, Rippers don’t give up their conquests easily. I’m afraid the power struggle will go on until some natural disaster wipes out the islands or the Rippers are killed off entirely.”

"It doesn’t sound like there’s any winning to this," observed the sire. He glanced back toward the open balcony doors with a melancholy expression on his face. "I have my daughter’s future to think about, too."

Erishar nodded. “Yes, you do.”

"I think I need to sit on this for a while," sighed Xellnaise.

"You have time." Erishar looked out at the horizon. "If the council decides to move in on Azirus, the fighting could go on for days. I think their first priority will be driving the Rippers away from Voldus first, though. You should be safe here, as long as they don’t converge on Oricus too. It really depends on how many reinforcements they’ve still got coming in from other parts of the world."

"I didn’t even think of that," admitted Xellnaise. He put a hand to his stomach, looking slightly pale. "They _could_ have more forces on their way, couldn’t they? Oh my…I think I might be sick.”

"The bathroom is down the hall," reminded Erishar, "or you could just puke over the side of the balcony."

Xellnaise blinked owlishly at him. “I couldn’t do _that_! What if someone should pass by underneath, like a house guard or Zevian himself?”

The lishere’s mouth twitched. “Then they’ll get showered with your dinner, I imagine.”

"That…isn’t acceptable," scoffed Xellnaise. He slapped a hand over his mouth and mumbled: "Excufe me," before hurrying through the doors.

Erishar considered following him when he heard a bang and a yelp of pain, but he decided against it. Most men didn’t appreciate having an audience when they were throwing up. He waited for several minutes, listening with his spirit singing senses to be sure the eccentric sire wasn’t in major distress. He felt his presence returning after a while, and he looked through the doors as Xellnaise returned to the bedroom. He had a greenish cast to his face and he appeared a bit frazzled.

"Why don’t you go to bed?" suggested Erishar as his client shuffled in and closed the door behind him.

Xellnaise nodded, rubbing his stomach. “I think I might do that. Will you be turning in soon as well?”

"In a little while," assured the lishere. "I think I’ll look at the stars for a bit longer. I’ve never really thought much about them before, but you’ve given me a new appreciation for them."

Xellnaise looked pleased with that, and Erishar again found himself thinking the man was…cute. “It’s always a pleasure to hear someone say they enjoy watching the stars. Goodnight, Erishar.”

The lishere smiled slightly. “Goodnight, Xellnaise.”

 

* * *

_Alliance Headquarters, Valkyrie Falls:_

Talith immediately drew for his gun when he sensed the sudden shift in the atmosphere of his office. He squinted against the flash of light as a portal appeared, and he took aim and hovered his booted foot over the emergency security button on the floor, beneath his desk. He relaxed with a sigh when Vurkanan Darshaw appeared before him, and he gave the flamboyant sorcerer an exasperated, pale green glare.

"Mr. Darshaw, I might have shot you," he chastised as the silver lifebearer gathered his bearings. He replaced his weapon in its holster at his hip. "I’ve asked you before not to just come in unannounced, like this."

Vurkanan waved a negligent hand. “Oh, do lighten up.” He hopped onto the director’s desk, twisting half-sideways so that he could look down at him with a wild little smirk. “You know I always prefer to make a memorable entrance.”

"You’ll make a memorable entrance one day with a bullet in your skull," warned the Ulvari with a sigh. He combed his fingers through his wavy, collar length hair, before rubbing his temples. "To what do I owe this sudden visit? I have a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind—"

"Azirus fell," interrupted Vurkanan, "but I suspect you all knew about that before it even made international news."

Talith pressed his lips together grimly, and he nodded. “Yes. We got word as soon as the attack started.”

"And you sent Blackbird to investigate?" guessed Vurkanan.

Talith frowned, wondering how he knew Idrisar was in Zarn. “No. Did you come across him?”

"Word is he’s staying at Zevian Saber’s house," said Vurkanan—not quite answering his question. "He’s acting as his bodyguard. I thought you sent him."

Talith sighed again. “I was instructed not to send _anyone_ , let alone Agent Blackbird. He went of his own accord and marked it off as vacation time.”

"Humm, that’s interesting," mused Vurkanan, staring off into space with a little smile on his lips. "Very interesting, indeed. Well done, Idrisar."

"What are you babbling about?" demanded Talith.

Vurkanan’s silver gaze flicked to him and focused on him…oddly. He almost seemed to be looking through him, rather than at him. “You’re incredibly stressed, Director.”

"Whether I’m stressed or not isn’t the subject matter," said Talith levelly. "How did we go from Agent Blackbird’s status to mine?"

Vurkanan leaned forward a bit. “Because you’re aura is fairly screaming with fatigue and anxiety. You should take a few days off. You don’t want to end up like poor Ammiteo, do you?”

Talith stared right back. “Ammiteo’s demise was a tragedy, but a precautionary one. I sleep here in my office when I’m too tired to go home, if you must know. Why the concern?”

Vurkanan shrugged and straightened up again. “I happen to like you. You remind me of someone I once knew, and he was a tireless champion for diplomacy, like yourself. He worked so hard to maintain relations between governments and agencies, and in the end…”

Vurkanan trailed off with a frown, lowering his gaze. “Well, it doesn’t really matter, now.” He looked at the director again with those glacier-bright, enchanting eyes and he smiled, once more. “Take my advice, Talith. Use some of those sick days you’ve been hoarding and enjoy a bit of ‘me time’. I should hate to hear that anything happened to you which could have been avoided with rest and relaxation.”

"I’ll take that into consideration," promised the director. "Now, back to the subject of Agent Blackbird; how many people know he’s in Zarn?"

"Just myself, my associates and that gorgeous tiger he’s protecting." Vurkanan sighed and stared off into space. "If he didn’t remind me so strongly of my brother in mannerisms, I might have sampled his goods myself. Alas, I tend to fall for the saintly ones; as I’ve told my wild cat."

He looked at Talith again, and he brightened. “I know! How would you like to see a magic trick?”

"I’ve seen the results of your ‘tricks’, and they tend to leave scorching holes in the buildings they are performed in," answered Talith dryly.

"Not this one," promised Vurkanan. "It’s a simple conjuration. Here, I’ll show you. It might just bring a smile to your sweet, sullen face."

He hopped down from the desk and he began to murmur in the arcane, gesturing gracefully with his hands. Alarmed, Talith stood up and shook his head. “Vurkanan, stop this. We can’t afford any massive damage to this building right now.”

The sorcerer continued as if he hadn’t heard him, dancing in a sleepy, sensual manner in place as he wove his slender hands through the air. His thick mane of silver locks swayed around his hips as he moved, and he closed his eyes as if enjoying a lullaby. Suddenly, a flock of white doves burst from his hands and for a moment, Talith was indeed enchanted.

Then one of the birds pooped on his head.

The little smile that had begun to curve Talith’s mouth quickly turned upside-down into a frown of outrage, and he crossed his arms over his chest and glared with all his might at the outrageous lifebearer before him.

Vurkanan stopped, and his smile faded when he saw the white splatter on Talith’s feathered, red-gold hair. “Oh dear…I should have stuck with the illusionary form of that spell.”

A dove landed on the director’s shoulder and cooed sweetly. Vurkanan bit his lip and motioned at the windows, compelling them to open with his arcane powers. “Shoo,” he said to the perched dove. “Off of the director, now. Away with you…all of you!”

Talith began to tap his foot. He was so angry that he didn’t trust himself to speak. When the birds were gone, Vurkanan shut the windows again and he snatched a tissue from the box on his desk, giving Talith a sheepish look.

"Apologies, my esteemed friend," he said as he wiped the shit from Talith’s hair. "Hmm, that isn’t going to do it. Let me try something else."

"No…more…spells," Talith uttered aggressively.

"Ooh, you have a bigger temper than my friend did." Vurkanan whistled softly. "Just relax."

"Darshaw, I said—"

Vurkanan whistled again, Talith felt a gust of air blow over the side of his hair, where it was soiled. The ancient smiled at him and stepped back with a pleased expression. “There you are; good as new!”

Talith reached up suspiciously to pat his hair, expecting to find it still caked with the gooey mess or worse; falling off. He discovered it to be dry and completely clean. Vurkanan produced a compact mirror from somewhere within his flashy garments of black and silver, and he held it up before the younger lashran.

"You see? I use that little cantrip all the time to style my own hair. You would be _amazed_ at how much time and effort it shaves off.”

"Hmph. I half expected you to give me a mohawk, or make it grow to the floor."

Vurkanan chuckled and put the mirror away. “I like your hair just the way it is, Director. Well, onto the subject of the invasion of Azirus; when can we expect you to act?”

Talith felt his frustration rising once again at the mention of the plight of the Zarn islands. “Regrettably, I have orders from the high council not to get involved. I’ve told Blackbird and I’ll tell you too; I would like to intervene, but I can’t. I have hopes that they’ll rescind the order once the fighting has died down—”

"You mean once the Rippers have claimed both Azirus and Voldus," corrected Vurkanan with narrowed eyes.

Talith gave a curt nod, his pride wounded by his inability to help his Zarnian brethren in their time of need. “They will be weakened from the struggle. It will result in fewer losses for us, if we wait until their numbers are shaved off. They may not even sanction intervention then. All I can do is hope and keep pleading my case.”

Vurkanan sighed. “I don’t envy your position.”

He stared deeply into Talith’s eyes, and the director called upon his discipline and training to avoid giving away his emotions. Apparently it wasn’t enough to ward against someone with Vurkanan’s empathic abilities. The sorcerer reached out and stroked Talith’s hair. “No, I do not envy you at all, Talith of Rhuidhim. This hurts you more than anyone knows, doesn’t it? Rest assured, however, I have faith in you. You’ll do the right thing, sooner or later.”

"And what exactly is the ‘right thing’, Mr. Darshaw?" queried the director a little breathlessly. He was close…too close. Could he sense it? Talith hoped not.

Vurkanan smiled. “I’ll leave that up to you, my fine, noble friend.”

The sorcerer’s smile suddenly faded and he blinked. A look of confusion and discomfort spread over his pretty, sculpted features and he stepped back. He checked his watch hastily and whistled. “Oh, look at the time! It’s past midnight in Zarn. I’d best take my leave of you now.”

He touched the silver amulet hanging from his neck and murmured the words of an activation spell. “Take care, Director.”

And just like that, Vurkanan Darshaw teleported out of Talith’s office in a sparkly flash of light, momentarily blinding the other lifebearer and leaving him alone with his confused thoughts.

"Did he…flirt with me?"

 

* * *

Aurora looked up from her desk at her partner as he appeared in a sparkle before her, teleporting directly into the room they shared in the hidden harbor of the Wayfarers. “Well, how did it go?” she asked.

Vurkanan was wide-eyed as he looked back at her. “Oh kitten, it was awful!”

She frowned and got up, crossing the room in long, easy strides as she looked him up and down. “What happened? He didn’t shoot you, did he?” She didn’t see any bullet-holes. “I warned you to start phoning before you show up there. Ulvari agents don’t fuck around and—”

"It was worse than that," interrupted the sorcerer, shaking his silver head.

She put her hands on her slender hips and raised her brows. “I have a route to plan out, Vurk. Spit it out and be done with it.”

"I flirted with him. I _flirted_ with the director!”

Her brows crinkled. “Director Stevenson?”

"No, silly girl! Director Talith! Right after a bird shat on his head, no less!"

She blinked. “All right, let’s take it a little slower. A bird shat on his head and then you flirted with him? How exactly did that happen?”

"Well, I noticed the tension in his body and in his aura, and I was trying to lighten the mood," explained Vurkanan, pacing in small circles. "But one of the doves I conjured decided to treat his head like a latrine, so I cleaned him up and banished them. He was fit to be tied, but before that misfortune, he smiled. He…had a lovely smile and I…I don’t know. The next thing I knew, while we were discussing the situation in Azirus, I started to…well…flirt!"

She started to grin.

"This really isn’t funny, Aurora!"

"It is in _my_ eyes,” she countered. “It’s about bloody time you showed some real interest in someone.”

"He’s a lifebearer," sputtered Vurkanan.

"So was Valamir, and you had a massive crush on him for a time, if I recall." She kept smiling.

"B-but…" He couldn’t seem to find his wits for a rebuttal.

Aurora put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Calm down, love. Were you picking up anything from him when this happened?”

The sorcerer chewed his lip in a manner that reminded her of his youngest son, Welvryn. “Possibly. It’s difficult to say, because I was so blasted shocked by my own behavior. Oh, I play-flirt for fun; I always have. This was _real_ flirtation, though…and I cannot even say where it came from!”

He’d lapsed into the Rhuidian dialect of the lashran tongue in his distress, but Aurora was fluent in it now, and she understood everything he said. “Vurkanan, lad, it’s far past time for you to play in the field again. I know we’ve had this argument before, but you have needs. If it felt right to flirt, then it probably was. Not every lifebearer on Wyndrah has a preference for sires, and there’s nothing wrong with relieving your needs with one.”

She patted his shoulders consolingly and turned away, returning to her desk to finish her task. “Lyre won’t hold it against you, and you know it. It’s time for you to live again.”

Vurkanan sighed, visibly trying to calm himself. “I just didn’t expect it. He shares some qualities that attracted me to both Lyre and Valamir, but there the similarities end. I thought for certain I would seek out a sire that resembled my lion, before anything else.”

"It’s probably best that you don’t," she reasoned. "Don’t try to replace him with a doppleganger, lad. Open your heart to someone else…or at least your pants. If this Talith could give you what you need, then I say you should give it a chance. Just make sure to let him know he’s just a lay, if that’s all you want from him. Believe me, it can get messy if you don’t and he has other expectations."

The sorcerer sighed again and plopped down on the bed, covering his face with a pillow.

"And don’t smother yourself," Aurora added. "We still need you."

 

* * *

-To be continued      


	5. Chapter 4

* * *

The next morning, Idrisar and Zevian were having breakfast together when Xellnaise came hurrying into the dining room, his silver hair disheveled and his dual-colored eyes worried. “Can I plead a moment of you gentlemen’s time?”

Zevian sighed. He’d hoped the man would sleep in for longer. Idrisar woke him up at the crack of dawn and only _he_ could get away with doing that to him. The one bonus was the chance to spend a little more private time with the agent before the rest of his guests woke up. “What’s the problem, Quartz?”

"It’s my bodyguard," answered the other sire with a troubled frown. "I think he’s taken ill. He was fine last night, but this morning…well, come and see for yourself. He seems to have a fever, but there aren’t any other symptoms of common illness. I’m worried he might have somehow been poisoned."

Idrisar put his fork down. “Did you both have the same thing for dinner when you were out shopping?”

"Yes, kabobs," answered Xellnaise, "from a food stand in the market square."

"And did he have something different to drink?" pressed the agent.

"He had a bottled water. I had a lime spritzer."

Idrisar pushed his seat back and got up. “It doesn’t sound like food poisoning, then.”

He looked at Zevian expectantly, and the guild lord sighed. Reluctantly, he got out of his chair too, and they went with Xellnaise up to the bedroom he shared with the Wayfarer. Erishar lay in a sweaty heap on the fold-out bed, and he gave Xellnaise an annoyed green glare when the three of them walked in to look at him.

"Told you," he said hoarsely. "I’m fine."

"My friend, you are not ‘fine’," Xellnaise said in a surprisingly stern tone, for such a meek man. "You’re pale and shivering, but you’re burning up."

"It will…pass," insisted the lishere.

"Flu’s don’t just ‘pass’ with our kind," reminded the stargazer. He looked at his two companions. "He really does look ill, doesn’t he?"

Zevian nudged him aside and leaned over the stricken lishere. He took one look at his expression and he sighed, all too familiar with the cause for such a look. “He isn’t ill. This isn’t caused by any virus or food poisoning.”

He squatted down by the foldout bed and he looked Erishar in the eye. “Have you taken your medication?”

The pained green eyes fluttered shut and the lishere nodded. “Last…two I had. They’ve started to wear off.”

Zevian winced in sympathy. “All right, hold on kid. I’ll go and get my stash and let you have some of it.”

As he got up to leave, Xellnaise had one brow raised inquisitively. “What medicine? What’s the matter with him?”

Zevian sighed, and Idrisar nudged him gently with his foot in a silent reminder to be nice. The guild lord glanced down at the ailing young man and he gestured at him. “This isn’t any illness, Quartz. The ability to weave spirit energy comes with a price, sometimes. We _hear_ them constantly in our heads, and sometimes even the best mental training and discipline can’t shut them up. When that happens, we have to rely on these little white pills especially made for spirit singers, else we can’t think through the noise in our heads. As you can probably tell by his expression, it gets fucking painful.”

Xellnaise gave Erishar a pitying look. “I didn’t realize. They won’t eventually quiet down on their own?”

"They will, but in the meantime they’ll give you a splitting headache and make you feel like you’re going insane. Do you want to keep standing here jawing about it, or do you want me to go and get the pills to relieve his suffering?"

Xellnaise sputtered into silence, flushing. “Please do,” he said after a moment of self-shaming.

Zevian didn’t waste a moment, except to squeeze Idrisar’s arm gently in passing and murmur a request to him. “Take care of the kid, will you? You’re good at comforting people…I suck at it.”

Idrisar’s clear blue eyes gazed back at him, and a little smile curved his mouth. “Sometimes you’re better than you think, on that front.”

Zevian started grinning like a fool, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of that little smile. Hearing that compliment from Idrisar was like being handed a basket of rainbows and puppies. He cleared his throat, covertly embarrassed for reacting so strongly to such simple praise. He patted Idrisar’s arm and left the room to retrieve the medication from the bathroom connecting to his master bedroom.

 

* * *

"Shh, try to relax," Idrisar encouraged, kneeling down beside the suffering lishere. He impulsively stroked dark, silver-streaked locks of hair away from Erishar’s perspiring forehead, and he looked up at Xellnaise. "Would you go into the nearest washroom and dampen a facecloth for me?"

"My…mentor should be here soon," Erishar said dazedly. "He can muffle them for me, until I regain control."

"That’s fine," soothed Idrisar, "but until then, you need some relief. Xellnaise?"

He looked back up, but the sire had already retreated to get what he’d asked for. He heard a crash and he winced, hoping the clumsy man hadn’t cut himself on anything. He heard voices in the hallway, and Erishar stirred as a smooth, gentle one spoke to one of Zevian’s men. Idrisar looked at the young man again and he gently pushed him back down as he started to sit up.

"Don’t try to get up right now," he scolded.

A moment later, Vylden came in, escorting a sire with impossibly long white hair and eyes as black as midnight. Idrisar stared at the man, thinking something was unusual about him. He reminded him vaguely of Glaive, with his delicate facial features…but there was an immediate warmth to him that fairly glowed all around him. He was dressed all in white and gray, but unlike Xellnaise, his garments draped his body loosely. He approached Erishar like a ghost, gliding through the room without a word and practically running over Idrisar in the process.

"Oh, pardon me," he said absently, sparing a gentle smile at the agent when Idrisar muttered an offended protest. "My mind is rather fixated on my pupil, Agent Blackbird. I don’t mean to be rude."

Idrisar ogled the stranger. He spoke with blend of Ocathian and Zarnian accent, and his sunny smile made it difficult to hold onto his annoyance. “Pardon me, but are you the ‘mentor’ he spoke of?”

"I am," agreed the white-haired sire. He looked down at Erishar—who was giving him a weak little smile of greeting. "Hello, dear one. You really are in a state, aren’t you?"

Xellnaise came stumbling back into the room then, clutching a wet washcloth in one hand. “Agent Blackbird, I have the…oh, who is this?”

"He hasn’t said, yet," answered the lifebearer. He watched as the stranger placed a palm over Erishar’s head and began to hum softly. He parted his lips to request a name, but he stopped himself, knowing better than to interrupt a spirit singer’s work. Instead, he looked at Vylden and nodded meaningfully to the man, a question in his eyes.

Vylden shrugged. “He didn’t give me a name. He just said he was here for Erishar.”

Idrisar’s eyes widened, before narrowing. “And you just…let him in? Without so much as identification?”

The sire looked puzzled and embarrassed at once. “He was…persuasive. I couldn’t…” He looked at the lashran in white again and he shook his head. “It just felt safe. I dunno.”

Idrisar wanted to call him a buffoon, and he started to activate his Mokalor, but as Vylden said, he felt absolutely no threat from this man.

"No need for that, Ulvari," said the stranger in a soft, distracted voice. "I’m only here to help. Put your weapon away, please."

Without quite understanding why, Idrisar obeyed immediately. He looked at Erishar, who appeared to be feeling better already. The lishere glanced back and he gave a little nod. “His name is Rhinan. He’s just…easily distracted.”

Idrisar wasn’t sure he believed that at all. The man named Rhinan was aware of everything around him. His response to his brief attempt to arm himself was proof of that. Perhaps he was just so busy taking in everything around him that he didn’t spare much time to focus on singular things, but he was in no way oblivious to his surroundings. Xellnaise, on the other hand, nearly stepped on Vylden’s foot as he started forward to offer the wet cloth.  

"Thank you," Rhinan said, holding one hand out for the item without looking away from his charge. He took the cloth from Xellnaise and he gently laid it over Erishar’s forehead. "I apologize for being late, Erishar."

"Late?" echoed the lishere.

Rhinan nodded, his pale hair shining in the morning light coming through the window. “I was meant to arrive two hours ago. The sea was a bit choppy, however. I could have remedied that, but you know I dislike altering nature unless I have to.”

"Yes, I know," sighed Erishar. "Thank you."

Rhinan smiled at him. “Absolutely.”

Zevian came in, holding a bottle prescription pills in one hand. He nearly dropped it at the sight of the mysterious stranger in white. “Who the hell is _that_?”

"Rhinan," offered Idrisar, wondering at the sire’s reaction. He actually seemed startled, but he wasn’t reaching for the guns he kept constantly on his person. "He’s the mentor that Erishar has been expecting."

"Oh." Zevian’s brows furrowed, and the air seemed to get thicker. He shook his head and pulled Idrisar closer to mutter into his ear. "I’m not picking up a thing on him, Blackbird."

Understanding his meaning, the agent nodded. “I imagine he’s shielded tightly enough that even you can’t sense him, Zev.”

The guild lord looked at him with a little smirk. “‘Zev’? You don’t call me that very often.”

"I’m distracted," excused the lifebearer. He looked around at the others and he spoke in a louder voice. "It’s getting a little crowded in here, gentlemen. Let’s clear out and allow the man to do his job."

Vylden went without question, but Xellnaise lingered for a moment, his blue/green eyes lingering worriedly on his bodyguard. Idrisar stepped closer to him and he gently ushered him through the threshold. “He’s going to be fine, Mr. Quartz. I…trust this man.”

Xellnaise appeared slightly embarrassed over his blatant “mother hen” moment. “Y-yes, of course. I’ll just…be in the hallway.”

Idrisar nodded, hiding a smile. “I’m sure they’ll call, if they need anything. Zevian and I will be right behind you—”

He looked at the guild lord to find him still standing there, staring at Rhinan with open fascination. “Zevian,” Idrisar said, trying to get his attention.

He didn’t move.

Idrisar frowned and poked him in the side. “Saber, let’s clear out and give them some space.”

Zevian jumped a little. “Uh…right. Good call.”

Slightly annoyed by his behavior, Idrisar pulled him out into the hallway with him and drew him aside. “What is _with_ you?”

Zevian scratched his head. His hair was loose, hanging past his shoulders in a cascade of gold and brown streaks. Idrisar rather liked it that way, but he also liked the way he styled it when he braided some of it and bound the whole of it into a ponytail. “He’s just kind of…well, he stands out, kid. Damn…that hair…”

Idrisar rolled his eyes and smirked. “You’re going to flirt with him,” he predicted.

"Who, me?" Zevian tried to look innocent—and he failed utterly.

"Yes, you." Idrisar felt more amused than annoyed, now. "You can’t help yourself; every time you see an attractive woman or lifebearer, the flirt comes out."

"Ah, but he’s a sire," countered Zevian, crossing his arms over his robe-clad chest. "I’m not into sires, kiddo."

A sly smile grew on Idrisar’s lips. “Are you _sure_ he’s a sire, Zevian?”

The guild lord frowned and poked his head into the room, before returning his attention to Idrisar. “The guy’s got pointed ears, and he’s tall. It’s pretty obvi—”

He snapped his mouth shut, and his eyes widened. “Oh, wait.”

Idrisar fought a chuckle. “Take your time.”

"You little…" Zevian put an arm around his waist and guided him further away; though Rhinan seemed to be wholly absorbed in his task and Xellnaise and Vylden were engaged in a quiet discussion. "Why the hell didn’t you _say_ anything? You mean he’s a—”

"Lishere," finished the agent with a nod. "I knew something was different about him…besides his behavior. It did take me a few moments to work out what it was, though."

Zevian whistled softly. “Damn, you’re good. I don’t think I would have noticed, if you hadn’t tossed some hints at me.”

Idrisar shrugged. “After working with one of them for so long, I’ve learned to spot little things that give them away; even when they try to pass as sire or lifebearer. Honestly though, I don’t think Mr. Rhinan is trying to pass as anything. People just assume and he allows them to believe what they will.”

Zevian shook his head, openly impressed. “Are you sure you don’t have a touch of spirit singing gifts, too? I’ve never seen anyone read people the way you do, Blackbird.”

"I’ve had years of training," excused the agent modestly. "Observation is key."

"And that’s what makes you so damned good," complimented the guild lord with a proud, handsome grin.

"I’m just devoted to my trade," said Idrisar with a shrug.

"Humble…but an ass-kicking people reader," chuckled Zevian. "Very…nice."

Idrisar huffed a breath. “Save your flirtation for the spirit singer in there, Zev. I know you’re going to do it.”

Zevian reached out to stroke Idrisar’s hair and he winked at him. “You jealous?”

The agent blushed slightly, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I just know how you are.”

Zevian leaned in to whisper into his ear, making him shiver pleasantly. “Maybe, but I’ve only got eyes for you, baby.”

"Why do you keep doing that?" whispered the lifebearer in response, trying to ignore the flutter in his heart.

Zevian’s aqua gaze held his. “I’m not playing.”

Idrisar lowered his eyes. “Last night…Zevian, that was…” He struggled inwardly, lying to himself and hating himself for it.

"Hey, no pressure," placated the sire. "I know you’re in a bad place, gorgeous. I’m not in the realm of sunshine myself right now for relationships, but I want you to know that meant something to me."

Idrisar stared at him. He was going to kiss him. He was going to reach up, cup the back of his head, and—

Rhinan stepped out of the bedroom at that moment and he clapped his hands, startling poor Idrisar so badly that he jumped and almost yelped. “Well, that’s taken care of,” chirped the spirit singer happily. “I’m hungry. Could I perhaps impose upon the master of the house for a meal?”

Zevian turned to look at him. “Hell yeah…I mean of course. There’s still some breakfast down in the kitchen. Vylden, show the man to the dining room and heat him up a plate, would you?”

Vylden was staring at Rhinan with a stupid expression on his face. “Sure, boss,” he said absently.

Zevian nudged Idrisar as the shark walked past with Rhinan following. “See kid? I’m not the only one.”

Idrisar sighed and shook his head.

 

* * *

_Elsewhere in Zarn:_

Aurora paced the deck of her ship in frustration, while Vurkanan watched. “What the hell is he waiting for?” she demanded. “We’ve got the perfect opportunity to get them by the balls!”

"Patience, wildcat," advised the sorcerer. He stretched, arching his back sensually as he basked in the warmth of the morning sun. "Antyan knows what he’s doing."

"He says we need to wait for the ‘signal’," she grumbled, "but the sly bastard won’t tell me what the ‘signal’ is. I’m his sister, damn it…I should know!"

"Maybe Antyan doesn’t know the answer to that question, himself," suggested Vurkanan. He walked over to her and he circled around behind her to rub her shoulders. "If this ‘signal’ is coming from Rhinan, there’s no telling what it could be."

She snorted. “A butterfly, probably. I don’t understand how that man functions.”

Vurkanan smirked, and he unknowingly echoed Idrisar’s opinion on Rhinan. “That man is more aware of his surroundings than all of us put together. Now stop imitating your sire and relax for a while. Cursing about it won’t make the fleet move out any faster, dear.”

"Hmph. I’ll be in my cabin with a bottle of my whiskey. If you hear anything before I do, be a champ and come tell me."

Vurkanan frowned and tugged his pocket watch out of his pants. “Isn’t it a bit early for drinking, darling?”

"It’s noon somewhere," was her answer, and she sauntered away, heading for the door leading into the interior of the ship. Vurkanan watched her, and as she started to pass by a rather handsome, human shipmate with long brown hair and a five-o’clock shadow, she crooked a finger at him. He grinned and joined her, putting an arm around her and opening the door for her. They disappeared together inside, leaving Vurkanan scratching his silver head and wondering how in Wyndrah she did it.

Vurkanan sighed. He would _love_ to just grab some hunk of a man at random to satisfy his baser urges, but he still couldn’t get by the feeling that he’d somehow be betraying his deceased mate. He shut his eyes and listened to the ocean, imagining Lyre standing behind him. Sometimes, he felt like he could almost reach out and touch him. He was no spirit singer, but he felt certain that his lion still watched over him. He’d come to appreciate Valamir’s situation more acutely since losing his mate, and he wondered how the red-headed ambassador was able to take not one, but _four_ mates after losing his first—if he counted both Welvryn and Rourk.

"I would have imagined myself moving on quickly," admitted the sorcerer under his breath, "I did eventually get over Gileaus, after all. But you, my lion…you became my whole world, when you so patiently gave of yourself to me. I think…I’m afraid. I am afraid that I’ll never find another to measure up to you, that I’ll never be able to give them my heart, and end up disappointing us both. Lyre…oh, my Lyre…what I wouldn’t give for even a whisper of your kind, patient advice!"

He started to cry; he couldn’t help it. The tears began to flow as he thought of his actions the day before with the director of the Valkyrie Falls Ulvari branch. He was attracted to him—lifebearer or no. Talith had those qualities that drew him like a moth to the flame, the balance to his own selfish, frivolous nature. Vurkanan was not a self-sacrificing person; never _had_ been. Lyre helped make him into a better person, as did Valamir. People that put themselves before others and had warm hearts without being complete goofballs attracted Vurkanan the most. He’d even found Agent Blackbird rather attractive, but he knew without a doubt that Idrisar’s preferences were in sires.

"Forests, I haven’t been this confused since I was a teenager," whispered Vurkanan. He missed his mate, he missed his sons, he missed his brother and his brother-in-law. Finding Antyan alive and well was such a blessing, and of course there was still Dagwyn, Gavin, Siren and Landrin. Both Welvryn and Demadas were…

Vurkanan shook his head, refusing to allow himself to linger on the loss of his family. Nothing lasted forever, _nothing_. He knew this, and at least those he’d lost had lived their lives to the fullest and left behind a legacy. That was what mattered to him now…protecting the legacy; protecting the family line.

~” _And you will, Angel._ ”~

Vurkanan opened his eyes wide, startled by the sudden voice in his mind. “L-Lyre?”

He listened intently, cocking his head. “Hello? I know you’re there…I just heard you!” He frowned and rubbed his temples. “Unless I’m going mad. Valamir _did_ say that can happen to lashran that have lived for too long and lost too much.”

That was why the elders were often promoted into the council. They needed the support of their brethren as much as their society needed the wisdom they’d gained over the years to function more smoothly. Was this what it was like to be an elder? To lose one’s sense of reality and fall into daydreams and regrets? Valamir and Rhys had both been quite stable, but the latter’s second mate had been an utter lunatic; a control freak that longed to turn Nandar into a world power.

He’d _heard_ it, though, and he could have sworn he felt the brief caress of lips on his cheek. “Lyre,” he whispered again, ignoring the funny looks he was getting from deckhands passing him by. His lion had spoken to him…he couldn’t doubt it. He knew for a fact that the deceased sometimes managed to part the veil between worlds to influence the living, and he had to believe that his love had just done so.

Lyre was always trying to make things better for him, and that hadn’t changed with death.

 

* * *

_Much later; Valkyrie Falls:_

"Director Talith, more documents for you to sign."

The lifebearer sighed as he took said documents from the secretary. “Thank you, Ceindar.”

"You don’t look very thankful," observed the other lifebearer softly. "Can I get anything else for you, sir?"

"I wouldn’t be opposed to some coffee," admitted Talith.

Ceindar nodded his silver head, and the shine of it caught the director’s eye. It was almost the tone of Vurkanan Darshaw’s hair. “Right away, Director.”

Talith stood there pondering as Ceindar left and the door shut behind him. The situation in Zarn was growing more severe by the day, and the losses on both sides of the conflicts were heavy. He thought back on the recent encounter in his office, and he recalled the compelling sorcerer’s words.

_"This hurts you more than anyone knows, doesn’t it? Rest assured, however, I have faith in you. You’ll do the right thing, sooner or later."_

The director frowned down at the papers in his hands, more troubled than he dared let on to his colleagues. Darshaw was right…this was paining him. Standing back and doing nothing while one of his people’s nations tore itself apart…it was disgraceful. He’d always done his best to be a neutral party in all political dealings, but this was a matter of being humane. The lashran were few in number as it was, and more of them were being killed by the Rippers as he sat in his office.

"Ancestors damn it all," he gritted out, carelessly crumpling the paperwork as his hands curled into fists. There was nothing he could _officially_ do, but he knew someone that might be willing to pull a few strings. He walked over to his desk, dropped the rumpled papers on them and sat down. He picked up his phone and pressed the number he wanted, and he waited until someone picked up.

"Agent Glaive, I need to speak with you immediately."

 

* * *

A seagull glided peacefully on the breeze, calling out to its brethren that it had found a source of food. It landed on the broken deck of a ship and waddled over to the dead human lying on it, and it cautiously pecked at his face. When he didn’t respond, the bird pecked again and caught some of his hair in its beak, tugging. Another avian form approached, and the seagull jumped away with a squawk as the black owl—much larger than the seagull itself—flew down from the skies.

Something was strange about the other bird, and the seagull wanted nothing to do with it. Calling out a warning to others, it flew away and left the owl alone. The owl took perch on the dead man’s head, her big yellow eyes scanning the ship as her own head turned around in a complete circle. She hooted, then chirped, and then she took to the skies again with the flap of her mighty wings. Clouds had begun to roll in from the north, and they brought with them a cool wind.

Tenja used those cooler air currents, catching them with her wings to bolster her flight and aid her ascension. She heard her spirit companion’s voice in her mind, instructing her to scout the entire area. A blast of flame shot up in the air from beneath her as something exploded, and the owl steered her flight away from it as the heat from it rose. There was a loud blast from one of the ships that were still in operating order, and there were screams as the white-hot energy fired from it struck another ship on the starboard side, frying several occupants in the process.

Tenja hooted again and circled higher, showing her master the entire harbor. There were shots being fired from land as well, but some of the Rippers were embroiled in a fight on land, trying to overpower the defenders and take over. With one last chirp, the black owl flapped and changed directions, heading back to her waiting companion, far from the battle near another island.

 

* * *

"Well?" pressed one of Antyan’s men as he saw the change come over his expression. "What is the situation, sir?"

Antyan closed his eyes and turned away from the hull, rubbing the bridge of his nose between a finger and thumb. “The eastern harbor is still holding, but just barely. The south and west harbors are both taken. The north remains intact.”

The burly, dark-skinned Ocathian man crossed his arms across his chest. “Do we move in?”

"I’m still waiting on confirmation of something," insisted the captain.

The Ocathian had more balls than most, and he questioned him further. “Confirmation of what, Captain?”

Antyan looked out at the darkening horizon. “A dream.”

 

* * *

“ _Now_ what’s he doing?” Vylden whispered to his boss. It was the second day of Rhinan’s visit, and he was currently sitting in the garden cross-legged, eyes closed and utterly still. The guild shark was tempted to go out there and check if he was still even breathing.

Zevian shook his head slowly, his aqua gaze uncertain on the strange, white-haired spirit singer. “I’d say he’s meditating, but there’s more to it than that.”

"Like what?"

The guild lord sighed. “I’m not sure. There’s a shit-ton of spirits in the air around him right now, though. He’s reaching out to them, but I don’t know what he’s trying to get them to do for him.”

"Zevian?" Idrisar’s voice called out from inside the house.

Zevian glanced over his shoulder. “Be right in,” he called back. He caught Vylden smirking at him and he schooled his features into a bland mask. “What?”

"You’re whipped again, boss."

Zevian grimaced. Only Vylden and Johnny could get away with talking to him like that, out of all his sharks. “Can’t be ‘whipped’ if I’m not getting any, pal.”

"You’re fast enough to jump when he calls," countered the other sire.

"That’s because…"

_~Because I’m trying to get down his pants, dammit. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself with Blackbird. He’s never going to toss his doubts into the wind and give it a shot with me, and he’s raising a kid he had with his last mate. Who the fuck am I kidding?~_

He hid his internal angst from his underling. “Because I respect him.”

Vylden looked like he wanted to argue that point, but something in the garden caught his eye first and he stared and pointed. “Uh, Zevian…”

Annoyed, Zevian looked where the other man was pointing. “What the hell is it now…?”

Then he saw what had the ordinarily stoic shark’s jaw hanging open. Hundreds of butterflies had appeared in the garden courtyard, fluttering around Rhinan in a storm of colors. The spirit singer had raised his arms, and the loose sleeves of his robes fell down to reveal smooth, toned musculature as he lifted his hands to the sky. He stood up, his white hair whipping in the wind that came out of nowhere, swirling around him. He turned slowly with his eyes closed, until he faced the to ogling sires. A smile was on his lips.

"You were right, Antyan," he said. "You were right. Help is coming."

He opened his eyes and he seemed to stare right through Zevian and his companion. His gaze was blank. The flowering myrtle trees, the carefully trimmed and tended bushes and flowers all seemed to bend toward Rhinan, as if reaching for him, listening to whatever he was saying in his thoughts. The swarm of butterflies danced playfully around him like faeries.

"That’s it," announced Vylden, "I’m going inside."

Zevian stared for a few moments longer at the spectacle of the blank-eyed lishere standing there, seemingly oblivious to his presence or anyone else’s. A chill went down his spine. “Yeah,” he agreed—though his companion was already long gone. “I’m going inside, too.”

 

* * *

"Butterflies?" Repeated Idrisar, his dark brows furrowing.

"Damned skippy," confirmed Zevian with a nod. "Butterflies. More than I’ve ever seen gathered in one place, before. It’s like he called every one of them on the island to come and flutter around him. Then he stood up and turned around, and it was like he wasn’t even _there_ anymore.”

Zevian shook his head and looked down at the map Idrisar had been going over with him, his comely features perplexed. “I’ve seen trances before, Blackbird…hell, I’ve been in more than a few myself. This was…what he was doing…well, it was new.”

Idrisar chuckled in spite of himself. Zevian Saber flustered was a new experience, and he was immediately chagrined when he found himself thinking it was cute. “But you’re a spirit singer too. Are you telling me you’ve never seen or done anything like that before?”

"Not while I was awake," answered the sire. He poured another shot of whiskey for himself and offered the bottle to Idrisar. When the agent shook his head, he put the bottle back down on the desk beside the map. "I’m telling you, that was creepy."

Idrisar measured him with his eyes. “You’re really unsettled about this. Who would have thought Zevian Saber could be so shaken?”

"Laugh all you want, kid. Vylden booked it before I did. My macho points are still secure."

That made Idrisar chuckle again. “Rhinan is harmless,” he assured the sire, speaking to him in a tone he would normally reserve for a child.

"Bullshit." Zevian shook his head. "Don’t kid yourself, Idrisar. That man isn’t ‘harmless’ in the least."

Idrisar sobered, considering the power behind Rhinan’s gentle nature. “I agree. He’s not ‘harmless’ as a whole, but to us, he really isn’t a threat. He’s on our side, Zevian. He may be strange, but he’s come here as a friend. Stop being so spooked. You and Erishar are the only ones here that could possibly understand what motivates him…what drives him. If the things he does makes you uneasy, just consider what he could do to our enemies.”

Zevian’s brows went up. “You know, that makes a weird kind of sense.”

Idrisar nodded and smiled. “You see? There’s nothing to fear from Lord Rhinan.”

"Did you just call him ‘Lord’?"

Idrisar blinked. “I…I _did_ , didn’t I? Well, it just seems fitting. I like the man, honestly.”

Zevian cracked a smile. “Yeah, I like him too,” he admitted.

"Then stop fretting over whatever it was he was doing and go call your son, like you planned," suggested the agent.

The guild lord nodded contritely. “Right. I’d best let the ragmuffin know I’m still alive and well, or he’ll come here and skin me himself.”

Idrisar smiled with amusement as the sire left the study, cellular phone in hand. “When you’re finished, maybe we can go to the market,” he called. “I’d like to pick up some things I neglected to bring.”

Zevian made the “okay” sign over his shoulder to indicate that he’d heard him and agreed.

 

* * *

Orindel didn’t hear his phone ringing, because he was onstage playing a gig in Rhuidhim, at that moment. He belted out the melody on his base, his eyes shut and his hips swaying. The band was really playing well together tonight, but they all had personal reasons to put on a good show. This was a benefit concert, devised by Alistair when they all heard the news about Zarn. Their goal was to raise money for the imperiled islands, so that the victims of this latest fracas could have food, shelter and medical attention. The government was doing nothing to help the cause, so Evindar’s band encouraged citizens to do their part instead with this benefit concert.

_~Yeah, great tune,~_ approved Orindel in his head as the last notes of _"Shadowed soul"_ faded away.

The raucous cheering of the audience was proof that they agreed with him. Evindar smiled engagingly at the crowd and took a bow. “Thank you,” he said in Rhuidian. “Thank you all so much for coming. There isn’t a thing we cannot accomplish together, if we put our minds to it. When you go home tonight, know that your contributions are helping to feed and shelter a displaced family. With your help, those caught up in the misfortune of the Zarn conflict will not go to bed hungry, or lack the medical attention they need!”

There was more cheering, and Orindel let his base dangle by the strap to curve his hands over his mouth and shout: “Hell yeah!”

Alistair stood next to Ronin in the audience, and the bassist spotted them and waved. His mate grinned and waved back.

"Now, this next song—"

"Kiss Orindel!" demanded a sire before Evindar could finish his sentence. The cry started a chant of: "Kiss him! Kiss him!"

Evindar chuckled into the microphone, before looking at his bassist. “Well, the audience has made a demand, Orin. Why are you still standing back there?”

Lorik pounded a rolling beat on his drums and hit his cymbals.

Grinning, the bassist sauntered across the stage to his lead singer. “You’re all perverted fuckers,” he announced into the microphone. “My kind of people.”

Shade laughed softly and shook his head, and the audience roared with approval. Evindar cupped the back of Orindel’s blond, red-streaked hair and laid claim to his lips, kissing him deeply for several heartbeats—long enough to put quite a few observers in a state of arousal, including his and the bassist’s mates. He finally broke the kiss, and Orindel staggered in a not-entirely-staged display of bliss. Evindar chuckled and spoke into the microphone again.

"Now, who wants to hear something lively?"

The audience cheered, and Evindar made a hand signal to the band to start playing one of their more upbeat tunes. Lorik started it with a lively rhythm, and Shade joined in with Orindel after the first few beats. Evindar’s voice collaborated with them as he began to sing the beginning verse.

In the dressing room, Orindel’s phone rang again, and a voice message made it into his inbox.

 

* * *

"Well, he isn’t picking up," sighed Zevian as he returned to the study, "which means he’s either partying, screwing his bondmate or putting on a show."

Idrisar grimaced. “I really don’t know how you do that.”

"Do what?" Zevian put his phone away and looked at the agent inquisitively.

"Talk about your son’s sex life so casually. I do my best not to imagine what my own get up to with their spouses."

Zevian laughed. “Well, I don’t actually _picture_ it. I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that Orindel is all grown up and has the same needs as any other lashran. He holds a similar philosophy when it comes to his old man’s sex life.”

Idrisar chuckled softly and got out of his chair. “You two have a strange and wonderful relationship. Are you ready to go into town?”

"You bet. I’ve already got the driver waiting for us in the car."

"Good." Idrisar started for the door, and Zevian stopped him in passing. He looked up at the sire, his eyes traveling the length of his arm. "Yes?"

"I just…want to say thanks," Zevian said softly. Those arresting eyes of his lowered as he drudged up the words. "You know…for coming to watch out for me. I’ve had lifebearers take care of me before, but not like this. You’re something else, Blackbird."

The desire to kiss the charming rogue was strong again, and Idrisar swallowed. Not many sires—even in this day and age—would so humbly thank a lifebearer for guarding them. Most were too proud to accept one as a bodyguard, tripped up by their own protective instincts and lingering prejudice. Idrisar smiled softly at Zevian, thinking he was something else, too.

"You are my friend," murmured the Ulvari. "More than that…you are…"

He shook his head, struggling worse than Zevian had. He didn’t want to say too much, didn’t want to give the wrong impression. What _was_ the wrong impression, though? Zevian already knew how he felt. They were honest enough with each other not to hide their mutual attraction, but still, he hesitated to let that chemistry override the barriers he’d erected. He knew that Ammiteo would understand; that wasn’t even an issue with him. He just didn’t know if he could be in a relationship with Zevian Saber and still be a man of the law.

Zevian gave him one of those crooked, heart-stopping smiles before leaning in to murmur into his ear. “Take your time, babe. I can wait.”

Shaken, Idrisar stared at him as he pulled away and winked. Forests, it shouldn’t be legal for any man to be that sexy. Zevian took his hand—the left one with the Mokalor adorning it, and he guided him through the threshold. That simple display of trust and affection threatened to melt the lifebearer’s heart then and there, and as they walked through the big estate together, Idrisar began to entertain thoughts of introducing his youngest son to the man, when this was over.

That was when he knew beyond a doubt that he was starting to welcome the prospect of becoming more than friends with Zevian.

 

* * *

Zevian stopped by the sushi stand while Idrisar was inside one of the shops, getting a suit tailored. The agent hadn’t thought to bring any formal wear with him, and while the chances of them attending any sort of party while this fracas was going on were slim, he believed in being prepared for all events. The guild lord smiled as he thought of how thorough and organized his love interest was, and his eyes scanned the assortment of sushi rolls absently.

He caught a flash of lavender and black to his right, and Zevian turned to see his ex lover standing nearby, wearing a surprised and slightly uncomfortable look on his delicate face. Zevian forgot all about the food and he stared at Azurel. He knew he was still living on his island, but he’d been staying somewhere on the other side of it. This was the first time they’d bumped into each other since Azurel left him.

The guild lord’s eyes were drawn to the round swell of the dancer’s belly, and his jaw dropped. Azurel was pregnant…heavily. He looked to be in his final trimester, and for a moment Zevian stupidly wondered if he was the sire. He shook his head and nixed the idea immediately. Too much time had passed. If he’d knocked Azurel up before he split, the baby would already be born, by now.

Azurel recovered his wits first, and he offered a shy, hesitant smile. “Hello, Zevian. I…almost called the other day, just to be sure you were all right.”

Zevian started to smile, amazed and oddly happy to see him in this condition. “Well, I’ll be damned. Come here, kid.”

Azurel came into his arms and accepted his warm embrace, lingering for a moment as he always did. Even now, the kid felt safe with him, and Zevian appreciated that. He pulled back and held him at arm’s length, looking him up and down. “You look great, flower.”

"So do you," admitted the dancer with a sigh. "I hate that."

Zevian laughed softly. “So…I guess I don’t need to ask what you’ve been up to.”

Azurel lowered his ruby gaze and blushed. “No, I think that’s kind of obvious. I…got bonded…with an old friend. I used to work with him in Voldus and we ran into each other here after…well, after I left.”

Zevian nodded in understanding. The question of Azurel’s fertility was now answered, which meant the problem with conception was on _his_ end. “Found yourself a sire whose swimmers still work, eh? That’s good. I know how bad you wanted a rugrat, and now you’ll have one.”

"It may not be your sperm," excused Azurel softly. "I think…I think maybe you and I just weren’t meant to—"

"Azurel?"

A sire with white-blond hair came out of the shop across the way and walked over. He looked at Zevian with wary recognition, and Azurel turned to smile at him. “Kellian, this is Zevian. Zevian, I’d like you to meet my spouse Kellian.”

The newcomer shook Zevian’s hand with respect. “Sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Zevian smirked wryly at his ex. “I’ll bet you have.”

"Nothing bad," insisted Azurel with a light smack to the guild lord’s arm.

Zevian chuckled. “You’re too generous, kid. So, this is your new man.” He eyed the blond sire up and down, taking in his brown-gold eyes, his collar-length blond hair and his lean build. He was a nice looking guy, and by the way he looked at Azurel, he seemed to adore him. “You take good care of him, Kellian. He’s something special.”

The blond nodded in agreement and smiled at his expecting mate. “I do, and he is.” He kissed Azurel on the cheek. “I’ll let you two talk, love. I’ll just be in the car.”

"Thank you," said the dancer softly. He watched his mate walk away and go around the corner of the shop building, before turning back to Zevian. "We’re considering moving to Rhuidhim, but I can’t fly this late in the pregnancy."

Zevian helped himself to a feel of Azurel’s rounded belly, drawing another blush from him. “Hmm, due next month, am I right?”

"That’s right." Azurel smiled. "Do you feel him kicking?"

"Sure do." Zevian’s smile grew again, and he sighed as he withdrew his hand. "I always knew you’d be adorable pregnant."

"I swear you have some kind of fetish," teased Azurel with a smile. "What is it with you and pregnant lifebearers?"

"It’s not sexual," promised the guild lord. "I guess I’m always just a little awed by it. The cute waddle helps, too."

"I don’t waddle," insisted Azurel haughtily, tossing his long hair over one shoulder.

"All preggies waddle, little diva." Zevian bit back his amusement.

"Do not! I…glide. I’m a dancer."

The sire laughed. “If you say so, kid. If you say so.” His smile faded a little and he took a deep breath, drinking in the sight of him once more. “I’m happy for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed.”

Azurel shook his head. “Don’t be. You gave me all you could, and for that I’m grateful. I’m just glad to see you alive and unhurt. Um, how long do you think Oricus can hold, if they come for this island, too?”

"They’ll need a lot more manpower to take this rock, baby. I’ve got border patrols on high alert and all harbors closed to any unauthorized traffic. We can hold for a damned long time, if they set their sights on us, and I don’t think they’re stupid enough to try right now. They’ll have to recuperate from the losses they’ve already had and regroup, before they can even think of moving in on Oricus."

"But someone tried to kill you already," Azurel pointed out. "It was in the news. You have an Ulvari bodyguard, now?"

Zevian swore softly, hating the media more than ever. “Yeah, it was a failed attempt and I’m fine. Agent Blackbird is my bodyguard, now.”

"Idrisar?" Azurel perked up and looked around. "Where is he?"

"He’s getting a suit made right now," answered Zevian, a bit relieved that Azurel wasn’t expressing any displeasure over the arrangement. After all, part of the reason he’d left him was because he was hung up on Idrisar. "The guy hardly lets me out of his sight. This is the most ‘alone time’ I’ve had since he came here."

Azurel studied him thoughtfully, and an aching little smile tugged his lips. “And you’re loving all the attention, I’ll bet.”

Zevian put his hands into his pockets and sighed. The breeze picked up, and the sun hid behind the clouds that were steadily rolling in. “I’m not going to lie to you kid. It means a lot to me, him showing up to protect my ass.”

"I know."

Zevian looked into his eyes searchingly, and he found no bitterness there…just a hint of regret. Azurel reached up and traced his features with his fingertips. “I’m…glad. I like Agent Blackbird; I really do. It was tragic, what happened to his mate. I hope…I hope the two of you can find solace in each other. Maybe he can give you what I never could.”

"Azurel—"

"No," interrupted the dancer with a shake of his head. "You don’t need to apologize, Zevian. You tried, and I know that. It just wasn’t enough for me…I wasn’t strong enough to share your heart. It’s okay. I think we’re both better off."

Zevian reached out and stroked his hair. “You were too good for me.”

A teasing glint sparkled in the lifebearer’s eyes. “I’m okay with that assessment.”

"Brat."

Azurel chuckled, and he hugged him. “I’ll always love you, Zev. Just stay safe.”

Zevian hugged him back, his throat tightening unexpectedly. He kissed the crown of his head and made a confession. “I’m going to miss you.” He squeezed him a little tighter, mindful not to crush his extended belly. He could sense how healthy he was, and he took some relief in that. His protective instincts reared up, and he made a decision.

"Hey listen, I’m going to make arrangements for a ship to take you and what’s-his-name out of here."

Azurel pulled away with a frown. “What?”

"You said you’re thinking of moving," reminded Zevian, "so I’m going to make that happen. This baby’s going to come right on schedule and you’re healthy enough for an ocean voyage to Rhuidhim. I want you safely out of here before your kid comes."

Azurel paled a bit. “You said Oricus will hold.”

"And it will," assured Zevian, "for as long as there’s breath in my body…but I’ll feel better knowing you aren’t on this island if they _do_ come to invade it. Take a couple of days to discuss it with your man and decide where you two want to settle in Rhuidhim. Call me when you’ve reached a decision and I’ll cover all the moving costs. I’ll even buy you a house in Rhuidhim. All you’ve got to worry about is getting a work transfer for him or finding new jobs once you’re there…and I can probably even pull some strings on that front, too. Just don’t take too long, gorgeous. You need enough of a time window to make it there and get settled in before the baby comes.”

Azurel bit his lip. “Zev…you don’t have to do this.”

The guild lord nodded. “Yeah, I do. I owe you something for putting you through hell, and this is the least I can do.”

Azurel shut his eyes and a single tear escaped from the right one. “You’re a good man, Zev…whether you believe it or not.”

Zevian brushed the moisture away with a thumb. “Shh. You’ll spoil my reputation.”

Azurel gave a soft, shaken laugh and hugged him once more. “I’ll talk to Kellian about it tonight, and I’ll call you as soon as we’ve worked it out. Give Agent Blackbird my love, would you?”

Zevian patted his back gently. “Sure thing, kid.”

 

* * *

-To be continued   


	6. Chapter 5

* * *

"Okay, what time does our flight leave?" Haden looked around to be sure he hadn’t forgotten anything important while packing.

"Five pm," answered his partner. Glaive looked up from the duffle bag he was zipping up. "It’s going to be interesting, trying to smuggle you into the Chalice. Ordinary people won’t notice you through the shields I’ve woven, but any spirit singers we happen across will. If that happens, we aren’t going to get very far before we’re detained and sent right back to where we came from."

Haden scratched his head, his lupine gaze thoughtful. “Hmm. It’s too bad we can’t fly straight to Oricus.” Zevian had the airport closed, with no exceptions. He might have made one for them if he knew they were coming, but Talith didn’t want to cause more trouble for the only remaining guild lord in power. Saber had enough on his plate, and Talith believed Glaive and Haden were resourceful enough to get to their destination without asking him to compromise his island’s security.

"We’re fortunate to have a private jet at our disposal," remarked the lishere. He moved his bag over against the wall, then did the same with Haden’s. "Talith gave them a song and dance about sending an operative to investigate the situation—which is technically not breaking the ‘no involvement’ rule set down by the higher ups. As far as official records state, we’re going to observe and report back. We’ll just happen to get caught up in the furor while we’re there, and they can’t hold that against us."

"Sneaky," said Haden with a smirk.

"And it’s basically truthful," supplied Glaive with an answering smirk of his own, "so you won’t be compromising your honor by lying to anyone."

"Except for the Chalice authorities," sighed Haden, "but I guess there’s no other way around that."

"None that I can think of." Glaive looked him up and down, his coral eyes assessing on him. "We’ve only got to keep you hidden until we get to the harbor. All you need to do is remember to keep your mouth shut. I can make you invisible, but I can’t make people deaf to any noise you make."

"Gotcha. I’ll zip my lips."

The lishere smirked. “That’s going to be a challenge in itself.”

"Hey, I can be quiet," objected the knight.

"Even if someone uses insulting language against me?" Glaive arched a brow. "You realize they dislike lishere on the Chalice almost as much as they dislike humans. Someone is bound to make a casually disdainful comment to me."

Haden compressed his lips. “Then I’ll just have to tape my mouth shut before we land.”

Glaive chuckled.

 

* * *

Idrisar noticed how despondent Zevian seemed to be as they ate their lunch together. He swallowed the bite of the salmon roll he was eating, and he tapped the surface of the outdoor table they were sitting at. Zevian snapped out of his daze, blinking at him. “What’s the matter?” asked the lifebearer pointedly. “You’ve been distracted ever since I came out of the shop.”

"Oh, I’m just contemplating my failing manhood."

Idrisar couldn’t have faked his look of confusion if he wanted to. “Pardon me?”

The sire huffed a rueful sigh. “I ran into Azurel while I was looking over the sushi selection at the stand. He’s got a spouse now, and he’s about five months pregnant.”

"Oh." Idrisar wasn’t sure what to say. "That must have been…upsetting for you."

Zevian’s handsome face took on a thoughtful expression. “Not really. He looked great and he seems very happy with his new guy. With everything that’s been happening on these islands, they want to move to Rhuidhim. I’ve decided to help them.”

Idrisar took another sip of his juice before speaking. “Help them how? Even if you were to open the airport for them, Azurel can’t fly this late in his pregnancy.”

"Yeah, I know." Zevian poked absently at the medallions of sushi on his paper plate. "That’s why I’m arranging a passenger ship out of here for them. I’ve gotta tell you, Idrisar, I can’t guarantee we can hold against the Rippers indefinitely, if enough of them hit Oricus. If I can get Azurel out of here and safely to a place that’s not caught up in a war, I’m going to do it."

Idrisar’s expression softened, and he reached across the table to lay a hand over Zevian’s. “Then you’re doing right by him.”

Zevian settled his other hand atop the agent’s, sandwiching it between both of his. “At least I’ll be doing _something_ right by him.”

"What does all of this have to do with ‘failing manhood’?" questioned Idrisar.

Zevian shrugged, averting his gaze. “I think my swimmers are dead. I couldn’t get him pregnant when he was with me, but he gets with someone else and _bam_! Knocked up. I should buy myself a cane and a golf cart, and put myself out to pasture.”

Idrisar’s lips twitched, and he cleared his throat to cover up a chuckle. “Zevian, being able to get someone pregnant isn’t what makes you a man. Your vitality isn’t in question, here.”

"Oh yeah?" Zevian snorted. "That’s easy for you to say. You had a baby past your prime childbearing years."

"That was a freak chance," insisted Idrisar. "The work done on me by the spirit keepers boosted my fertility just enough for it to happen, and I’m sure you would have eventually conceived with Azurel, had he stayed with you."

"I don’t know," sighed the guild lord. "I tried every trick in the book…and even invented a few new ones. I used my spirit singing to keep the kid’s fertility cycles rolling on, and we used so many positions that…uh, too much information?"

Idrisar was blushing, but not for the reason Zevian obviously thought. His imagination had conjured imagery that startled him in its clarity, and the lifebearer his mind was picturing trying all these positions with Zevian wasn’t Azurel. “No, it’s fine,” he said shortly. “If it bothers you that much, why not get your sperm count checked?”

"I’m not sure I want confirmation that I’m all dried up," grumbled Zevian. He was practically sulking. "I’m happy for the kid, sure. I just thought since I’ve already had a son, maybe the problem was with him."

Idrisar sighed and resisted rolling his eyes. Sires and men were so sensitive about their reproductive parts. The moment anyone suggested their sperm lacked potency, they lost their confidence. There was one particular way Idrisar could think of to prove to the guild lord that he was still virile, and his blush returned. He stared at Zevian, losing his appetite for food entirely. Idrisar had faced down killers with nary a blink of an eye, but what he was contemplating doing now was so much more dangerous than that.

"What?" asked the sire suspiciously as the idea solidified in Idrisar’s head. "Why are you looking at me like that, Blackbird?"

His conniving thoughts must have been showing on his face, and he didn’t even try to hide them. His pulse quickened as the idea grew in appeal to him, offering the perfect excuse to appease his desire. Idrisar stood up slowly, holding Zevian’s hand. He grabbed up his new suit, safely enclosed in its hanging bag, and he draped it over his arm. 

"Come on."

The sire looked down at his half-eaten food. “We haven’t finished eating yet…not that I’m really hungry right now.”

"We can eat later at the house," suggested the agent as Zevian started to get up. "Let’s go."

Zevian allowed himself to be pulled along, passing people in their wake as the lifebearer guided him out of the food court area. “Where the hell are we going?” he demanded.

Idrisar thought about it. They could go straight to Zevian’s house, but he feared he might lose his nerve on the way there. He didn’t want to give himself the chance to really think about his decision and use common sense, and he knew that if he did this, he’d be sealing the deal with Zevian and there would be no going back. Idrisar didn’t practice casual sex, and he wasn’t interested in a “fuck buddy”.

"Give your driver the rest of the day off," he ordered. "Have him take a cab home. I’ll drive the car."

Zevian was now regarding him with deep suspicion. “What’s going on, kid? Talk to me.”

"You’ll see," answered the lifebearer evasively. Forests, his body was already reacting to the thought of what he intended to do, and he had to alter his walk a bit to conceal the state of arousal he was getting himself into. "Now call your driver so that we can have the car to ourselves."

Zevian dug his phone out of his pocket, still staring at the agent as if he’d gone mad. He dialed a number and put the device to his ear. “Tom, it’s me. Go ahead and take the rest of the day off. No, leave the car. Take a cab to the house, and I’ll reimburse you the cost when I get there. No, nothing’s wrong…” He gave Idrisar a questioning look as he said this, and the agent shook his head. “Everything’s fine,” Zevian went on. “My bodyguard just wants to drive. I guess he wants to get used to the traffic rules here or something. Yeah, I’ve got a set of keys on me, so you can just take yours with you. All right, see you later.”

Zevian put the phone away. “Okay, that’s done. Now are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

Idrisar smiled faintly, his footsteps hurried in his rush to get to the car while his resolve held up. “You’ll just have to wait and find out, Saber.”

 

* * *

Zevian was now well and thoroughly beside himself with confusion. While Idrisar had never been an open book, his behavior now was mind boggling. He’d indicated that nothing was wrong, but he wouldn’t tell him what was going on. Becoming worried, Zevian instinctively reached out with his powers, breaking his rule never to scan Idrisar without his consent. His eyes widened when he got a feel of his aura, and he thought he had to be imagining things.

Blackbird was horny. Very, very horny. Practically in heat.

Zevian shook his head, thinking he must have made a mistake, or wishful thinking caused him to sense something that wasn’t there. They made it into the parking garage just as he was about to scan him again. While Idrisar doubtless had needs like any other lashran, it wasn’t like him to let them just…take over.

"Unlock the car," said the agent, his footsteps hardly slowing.

Distracted from his second attempt at a scan by the demand, Zevian got out his keys and pushed the button on the remote. The sleek black sedan beeped merrily as the doors unlocked, and Idrisar opened the driver’s side and tossed his suit in, before ushering Zevian into the back. The guild lord was again surprised when Idrisar got in the back with him, rather than the front.

"Blackbird, what are you—"

Then his mouth was covering Zevian’s, hot and eager. The sire hardly heard the door slam shut. Idrisar’s lips were as soft and inviting as he remembered, and a groan surfaced in his throat. He was dreaming…he had to be. Idrisar’s tongue delved between his lips to caress his, and Zevian decided that if it _was_ a dream, he didn’t want to wake up. He took over the kiss with desperate enthusiasm, embracing the smaller man as Idrisar straddled his lap. He never would have seen this coming in a million years. Was it brought on by his description of when he was trying to get Azurel pregnant? Did he get jealous? Zevian tried to work out exactly when the agent’s attitude changed, tried to figure out what he’d finally done right to get his bones jumped like this.

"Idrisar," he gasped between kisses, his hands squeezing that delectable ass he’d admired so many times—particularly when it was covered by the black combat uniform that fit the agent like a second skin. He felt the bulge of the lifebearer’s arousal pressing against his own and he raised his hips, thrusting against it. He was terrified that if he questioned it, he’d ruin the mood and lose his chance to finally satisfy his lust for him…but he _needed_ to know this wasn’t going to end with Idrisar’s regret. “Baby, what brought this on?”

The lifebearer’s kisses moved away from his lips and to his throat. His lips felt so damned good against his skin that Zevian’s body tingled all over. “You are,” murmured Idrisar, “a very virile man. I’m going to prove it to you.”

Oh. Zevian swallowed, hating himself for what came out next. “I don’t want a pity fuck, Id.” He’d have thought he’d take any kind of sex he could get from him, but he found he couldn’t bear the thought of this turning into a simple fling.

The heavenly caress of the agent’s lips didn’t pause, and Idrisar’s hands slid down Zevian’s chest and torso. “It’s not a pity fuck,” assured the lifebearer huskily. He tugged Zevian’s shirt out of his pants, and the sire drew in a sharp breath as his right palm settled on his swollen crotch. “It’s…a convenient excuse for me to finally have you.”

His words made Zevian’s heart race, and the passion returned full-force. He pushed into Idrisar’s groping hand and his breath caught in his throat. “Well, in that case…”

Powerless now against his own lust, Zevian turned in his seat and pressed Idrisar down on his back, Grinding between his thighs and claiming his mouth desperately. There was no doubt in his mind that the Ulvari could easily turn the tables on him and reverse their positions if he wanted to, but Idrisar seemed to enjoy the feel of his weight on top of him. His fingers clutched at Zevian’s back through the material of his shirt, the hard points of the Mokalor digging into his shoulder blade. It was a potent reminder that it would only take a second for Idrisar to extend the claws and shred his back to ribbons, but Zevian trusted him.

Their tongues danced as the kiss deepened, and Zevian felt the hand on his back moving up to tug his hair free of the tie binding it into a ponytail. It fell forward around his face as the lifebearer deftly snapped the cord, and then the metal-sheathed fingers were combing through the loosened mass of it. It felt good, but the hand rubbing his cock through his pants felt even better. He mimicked Idrisar’s earlier actions, kissing along his cheek to his throat as he began to unbutton the green shirt he was wearing.

"Gods, I want you," he confessed un-necessarily. He bared Idrisar’s chest and stomach to view and he slid his hand over it, admiring the toned, tight muscles. He glanced down and decided that Idrisar had the cutest little belly-button he’d ever seen; the perfect dimple in his tight little stomach. He didn’t know why he adored belly-buttons so much, but he decided Idrisar’s was his favorite. His skin was like silk, the ripple of lean muscles beneath perfection in the making. He kissed his way down his clavicle as he started working on getting his pants undone, but Idrisar suddenly stopped him.

"Wait," said the lifebearer, "there’s something I want to do first."

"Whatever you want, baby," promised the guild lord breathlessly.

He obligingly sat back in his original position, allowing Idrisar to get back up and take the reins. He was mildly surprised when the agent got down on the floor and walked on his knees to him, and he was thankful that the back of his car was so spacious. Idrisar looked up at him as he placed his hands on Zevian’s leather-clad knees and pushed them apart, before settling his body between them and sliding his hands in a slow glide up his thighs. The blue eyes—unframed by glasses today because he was wearing his contacts—stared up at him intently as the graceful hands moved closer and closer to the bulge of Zevian’s crotch.

He’d seen Idrisar play the role of the sex kitten before, but he’d never been the recipient of it. Zevian thanked every ancestor in existence for this opportunity as he reached out to stroke the lifebearer’s dark hair, quietly encouraging him to do whatever the hell he wanted. Idrisar started to kiss his knee, then his thigh. Zevian’s groin bucked in his pants when those soft lips pressed directly against it through the leather pants, and the thought of those lips encircling the shaft of his erection almost made him dizzy. His breath quickened as the agent slowly tugged his zipper down and flicked open the button at the top. The mesmerizing crystal blue eyes kept holding his as Idrisar’s busy hands worked with agonizing patience.

"Fuck you’re getting me hot," admitted the guild lord aloud. He briefly wondered if Idrisar had ever been formally trained to seduce men, or if it was just something he taught and perfected himself. Either way, he was starting to fear he’d come in his pants before the agent even got his cock out of them. The little smile that curved Idrisar’s lips at the compliment made him even sexier—if that were possible.

Zevian clenched his jaw and grabbed hold of the edge of the seat as Idrisar finished undoing his pants and reached in to free his straining arousal from them. He eased the guild lord’s sex out carefully, and he stared at it with open admiration for a moment. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke his appreciation for the size, girth and shape of it more potently than words alone could have. He nuzzled the length with his lips, his gaze returning to Zevian’s as he began to familiarize himself with it.

It was torture…sweet, beautiful torture. The velvety, shapely lips pressed gentle kisses along the shaft, while the arresting, pale blue eyes held his. Zevian wasn’t used to his partners staring directly at him that way as they pleasured him, and he found it extremely sensual. Idrisar parted his lips and began to lick it with long, slow swipes of his tongue. He licked the underside as though it were a delicious treat, before grasping the shaft in one hand and pulling down to expose the bulbous head in full. He swirled his tongue around it, licking the ridge surrounding it before running his tongue over the slit in the tip. Then those sinfully glorious lips closed over it, and Zevian’s vision blurred with pleasure as the warm, wet mouth started to sheath him. Idrisar finally released him from his gaze, his eyes fluttering closed as he began to suck.

"Unf…oh…baby," Zevian grunted, stroking Idrisar’s hair again as he took him into his mouth, inch by inch. He released him to the tip and started again, picking up speed little by little. He kneaded the guild lord’s thigh with his free hand as he pleasured him with his mouth, and Zevian’s breath shivered on his lips with each suck and slurp.

Blackbird was…phenomenal at this. Those lips…oh, those lips were just made for sucking a man off. Zevian tried to calm down…to make it last. The Ulvari knew his way around a cock, for certain. Idrisar relaxed his throat and took him in deep, each time. His tongue stroked insistently against his swollen flesh and the suction was just right—strong enough to draw moans from Zevian, without being too much to take. His head bobbed a little faster, until he adjusted to Zevian’s size and started varying his technique.

Zevian’s head fell back and he shut his eyes, helpless against the storm building inside of him. Idrisar sucked him off at different speeds, different angles, with varying degrees of suction. The sire stopped stroking his hair and grabbed onto the seat again, gently thrusting in time with the motions of the other lashran’s mouth.

"Idrisar," he panted after several moments of the treatment. He tried to calm his breathing, feeling his balls tightening warningly. It was no good. His breath hitched and he broke into a sweat, his stomach clenching as the inevitable orgasm approached. "Fuck…ah…I’m coming. C-can’t hold it, gorgeous!"

When he started to buck in his mouth, Idrisar deep-throated him and began to swallow. With a cry of utter bliss, Zevian unloaded hard down his throat. He came until it seemed like his balls might shrivel up into dehydrated sacs, drained entirely. When it finally ended, the lifebearer let his softening cock slide out of his mouth, and he rested his cheek on Zevian’s leg endearingly. Still catching his breath from the experience, Zevian stroked his hair and he felt that he loved him even more.

"You wiped me out," accused Zevian.

Idrisar lifted his head off his leg and looked up at him with a satisfied little smile. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

"I never said it was a bad thing," chuckled Zevian. He traced the other man’s amazing, talented lips with his fingertips. "That was…I had no idea you were that good with your mouth, Blackbird."

"I tend not to advertise my sex skills," said the agent dryly. He rose from the floor and he straddled Zevian’s lap again, putting his arms around his neck. "But now that we’re here, I can safely say I have plenty more to share with you."

Zevian rubbed his back, staring at him with awe he didn’t even try to hide. “How likely am I to survive this, eh?”

"You aren’t much good to me dead."

Idrisar smiled again, and he reached down to curl his fingers around Zevian’s still-exposed cock. He began to stroke it slowly, and he kissed him almost hesitantly on the lips. Zevian returned the kiss, demonstrating that he really didn’t mind the lingering taste of his own seed in his mouth. He was hardening back to a fully erect state already as Idrisar’s touch worked its magic on him, and he slipped his hands into the lifebearer’s open shit to let them wander over his body. He let one drop to begin fussing with the gray pants, undoing the button before pulling the zipper down. Idrisar made an enchanting noise of desire—something between a whimper and a moan as Zevian used both hands to tug his pants down over his hips as best he could in this position and expose him.

The agent’s aroused cock brushed against Zevian’s wrist as he freed it from its confines, and the sire immediately held it in his hand, getting a feel of it. The warm, swollen length throbbed in his grip as Zevian gave it a slow, curious stroke, and Idrisar’s breath caught. Zevian rolled the protective hood of skin back from the tip and he circled the moist, tender glans with the pad of his thumb. He smiled a little when the smaller man squirmed and broke the kiss to moan into his ear, his back arching with the sensation. Not even a lifebearer as disciplined as Idrisar was immune to the pleasure of stimulation in that spot. Idrisar nibbled his earlobe as he rubbed in gentle circles, while gripping and stroking the length of the organ with his other hand. His breath was hot against his ear, quickening and hitching with delight as he pleasured him. 

Idrisar’s steady fondling didn’t pause as Zevian reciprocated. Not many lifebearers could maintain concentration for long to keep doing that, once he began to play with that vulnerability they shared. Zevian turned his head to silently demand another kiss from him, and the agent’s mouth met his once more. The sire thrust his tongue in, putting all his desire, his love and his gratitude behind the kiss. Their tongues glided together sensually, and Zevian’s low groans of passion blended with Idrisar’s softer, breathier moans.

He needed to get Blackbird’s pants off. He was going to come again if this kept going, and he wanted to be inside of him before that happened. Zevian shifted in his seat again and eased the lifebearer back, as he’d done before. Idrisar didn’t resist, but he groaned in frustration when Zevian stopped fondling him and sat up to get working on de-panting him. The sire’s cock was now out of his reach too, and the accusing look he got for that made Zevian grin in spite of himself.

"It’ll only take a couple of minutes," promised Zevian huskily as he picked up Idrisar’s outer leg and guided it to bend. He quickly unlaced the oxfords that the agent was wearing, watching that sexy, flushed face all the while. An idea came to him, and he hesitated for a moment. How would Idrisar react if he used his other talents to pleasure him while he got him ready? Azurel had always loved it, but for Idrisar, it could be potentially triggering. After all, Tsyther had used his spirit singing to basically molest the agent when he had him in captivity.

Then again, when Zevian was working on unraveling the tangles of his sire’s work on Idrisar, he unintentionally provoked an erotic reaction and Idrisar hadn’t shrunk away. The thing that made this lifebearer unique from most others was that he tended not to let the past be his master. He learned from his experiences, he grieved for losses, and he moved on.

"What is it?" asked the agent breathlessly, a touch of impatience coloring his voice.

Zevian decided to go for it, but not without offering a warning and reassurance to him. “I’m about to try something, and if you want me to stop I will…immediately. Okay?”

Idrisar nodded, his lovely eyes curious on him. Zevian resumed working on removing his shoes, and he reached out with his powers—cautiously. He used them subtly at first, whispering to Idrisar’s spirit and encouraging it to intensify sensation and drive. The agent’s eyes drifted closed, the tempting lips parted, and his breath began to quicken.

"Oh," he gasped softly, his eyes fluttering open again to look up at the guild lord, glowing with lust. "I understand…what you’re doing now."

Zevian smiled a little, carefully worshipping his body in ways an ordinary sire could not. His erection twitched with lust as he watched the dusky nipples tighten, heard the catch of Idrisar’s breath and watched the pleasure flit over his youthful, beautiful face. He almost asked if this was okay, but he knew Blackbird well enough to trust that he would say something, if he crossed a line. It was just as he’d hoped; Idrisar didn’t project his experience with Tsyther onto Zevian, or compare it to what he was doing to him now. He could sense it in his aura as he stimulated him. To Idrisar, this was a completely separate experience, and that was a damned good thing.

Zevian finished removing his shoes and socks as the agent began to squirm helplessly on the seat, and he clenched his jaw when Idrisar’s skilled hands began to wander over his own lithe, nubile body.

_~Down, boy. Don’t lose your concentration and don’t jump on him and start humping yet.~_

It was easier said than done. Zevian silently commanded Idrisar’s body to lift his hips, and when it complied, he eased his pants down and slid them off. Idrisar’s breathy gasps grew in volume and frequency, and Zevian felt a flash of alarm when the left hand—the one wearing the deadly Ulvari gauntlet—started to reach for the lifebearer’s swollen sex. He reached out to catch his wrist and he offered an urgent, low suggestion to him.

"Let’s take this off, baby. I know it’s as easy as breathing for you to operate this thing, but still…accidents could happen."

 

* * *

Idrisar nodded, unable to find the words to speak as the ghostly tendrils of spirit energy caressed, stimulated and manipulated his body. It tingled, it warmed and it pleasured all at once. It was different from what Tsyther had done to him; he’d _forced_ reactions that Idrisar never would have had under normal circumstances. Zevian was…loving him; pleasuring him as surely as he’d have done with his hands and mouth. The sensations coursing through him were amplified, but not compelled. Gasping uncontrollably, the lifebearer hastily unfastened his Mokalor and let it drop to the floor. His back arched as the gland inside of him gave a throb of sensation as if being massaged, and all sense of modesty went out the window.

"Zevian," he moaned, closing his eyes.

It almost—but not quite—felt like he was being sucked off, and he reached down again to fondle himself. The handsome sire that was provoking so much pleasure in him reached down to rub the hardened peaks of his nipples, his breathing deep and aroused. Idrisar opened his eyes and suddenly made a grab for him, desperately wanting to be joined with him. Zevian’s hips settled between his thighs, his naked cock rubbing against Idrisar’s as his body weighed him down. Idrisar clung to him, the moans escaping his throat freely as the pleasure built and built. He felt Zevian shift on top of him as the sire kissed him, muffling his sounds of pleasure, and he felt the penetration of a finger as he tested how ready he was.

A low, rumbling growl of approval vibrated in the guild lord’s throat, and the finger withdrew to be replaced by the thicker mass of his cock. Idrisar parted his thighs further and tried to relax for him as he started to enter him, but Zevian’s potent spirit singing did the job better than he could have, at this point in his arousal. The thick, impressive length of his shaft eased steadily into him a bit, then withdrew. It did it again, deeper this time, and Idrisar focused on his breathing. Zevian was of a size with Ammiteo down there, though he wasn’t built as heavily everywhere else. Idrisar vaguely realized that while he himself was naked but for his opened shirt, Zevian was still fully clothed. He tugged the guild lord’s pants down further to at least expose his ass, and he grabbed onto it with both hands.

"Oh, Idrisar," groaned the sire as he sheathed himself completely in his body.

He lifted his head to stare down at him, his stunning aqua gaze holding the lifebearer’s as he began to move. He pumped slowly at first, giving them both a chance to adjust. Lips parted, pupils expanded into ovals, he watched him with such awe and tenderness. Idrisar’s breath caught each time his length eased in, gliding past the erogenous spot inside of him perfectly with every thrust. He’d imagined himself being on top their first time, if he ever got the nerve to sleep with him. This was fine, though; _more_ than fine, because there were few things he liked better than the feel of a sire’s powerful body thrusting over him.

The spirit singing eased up as Zevian concentrated on his rhythm and fell into it, but that was probably a good thing. Idrisar didn’t know how much more of that he could have taken; he’d started out so hot and bothered it was a wonder he didn’t come in his pants while sucking Zevian off. He reached up to stroke the sire’s long, dangling hair, tucking it behind his ears as he started to undulate beneath him. Their bodies synchronized perfectly, as if they’d choreographed this encounter prior to it happening. It felt natural…and wonderful. The fine material of Zevian’s shirt rubbed against Idrisar’s cock as he moved, causing a lovely friction in conjunction with the lingering touch of spirit energy.

"Zev," panted the agent, again reaching for his flexing bottom. He bit his lip, feeling the tightening inside and out. He disciplined himself, wanting to come with his companion, if at all possible. Zevian began to thrust harder with excitement, his voice a low, husky growl of need.

"Don’t…hold back baby," he begged. "Come for me…"

The car rocked with his vigorous motions as he read the agent’s desires through his spirit and started taking him with deep, hard thrusts. Idrisar cried out in approval, reveling in the feel of his lovemaking. It was perfect; he’d started out slow and gentle, gradually getting more aggressive as Idrisar adjusted. He was good…very good. He didn’t thrust mindlessly in his passion; he controlled the angle, depth and force of his pumping to bring the most pleasure. Try though he might, the lifebearer couldn’t hold back the climax sweeping through him and he shuddered with it, grunting helplessly as he painted the sire’s nice shirt with his ejaculation. Idrisar embraced him and moaned, spurting a little harder when Zevian thrust again.

He fell back against the seat as it played out, and he slid his hands under Zevian’s shirt to feel the flex of his abs. He couldn’t be bothered to unbutton the garment now; he lacked the coordination to try. “I’ve…dirtied your…shirt,” he managed to gasp. Already, he was getting stiff again, massaged inside by the sire’s pumping sex.

Zevian grinned and shook his head. “It’ll wash.” He changed his pumping to short, fast thrusts, closing his eyes. “I’m not…far behind, Id.”

Amazingly, Idrisar wasn’t, either. Short refractory periods were normal and healthy for their kind, but he couldn’t remember ever having his pleasure mount again so quickly after an orgasm. Maybe they would get to come together, after all. When Zevian’s thrusts deepened and his broken groans filled his ears, Idrisar realized he wouldn’t quite make it long enough for him to join him with a second climax…but that was okay. He rubbed Zevian’s ass and stared up at him, gasping with pleasure as the sire lost himself in his urges. He felt the throb inside of him as he came, felt the spurting release of his seed, and he watched the gorgeous sire’s face tense up with it. Zevian cursed in a trembling voice, his eyes closing as he filled Idrisar.

Zevian’s mouth descended to his and he kissed him, sighing with relief. He lay still within him for only a few moments, before he started to move again. Idrisar smiled against his lips, expecting no less of him. He resumed moving too, and he felt coordinated enough again to unbutton his shirt. Saber had a truly inspiring body, and the only thing Idrisar regretted about his choice to do it in the car was the fact that the cramped space—spacious vehicle or not—made it awkward for him to fully appreciate his tawny form.

Later. He could take the time to familiarize himself with his body later. Right now, his concentration was quickly slipping again. Zevian had started “singing” to his spirit once more, now that he’d had his climax. Idrisar licked his lips and spiraled into passion and bliss again, willingly captured by his companion’s steady thrusts and the promise of more pleasure to come. He wrapped his legs around the guild lord’s waist, caressing his tongue with his own. Zevian’s pace picked up again, and Idrisar moaned.

Suddenly the high-pitched, loud scream of a car alarm distracted them both from their passionate coupling, and the continuous beeping of a car horn joined it. Zevian cursed and reached frantically into his pocket for his keys, and Idrisar realized that the noise was coming from his car.

"Fuck, I should have disarmed that," Zevian gasped tightly as he struggled to find the keys.

Idrisar could see the shadow of someone passing by and he blushed when they stopped to stare at the vehicle. Thank goodness the car windows were tinted and so fogged up from their passion that nobody could see inside. He looked at the half-panicked sire fumbling with his keys, and he started to laugh softly.

Zevian glanced at him, and he started to grin as well. He pressed the button to disarm the alarm, and in the blessed silence that followed, his deeper laughter joined Idrisar’s.

"I think we upset the car," said the lifebearer between chuckles. Their lovemaking had been interrupted, but not ruined. If anything, the startling moment only added a comedic element to their first time that would be remembered for years.

"Or someone was trying to catch a free show and got too close," suggested Zevian with a wink.

Idrisar’s eyes widened with horror at the thought, and Zevian put the keys away and lowered his body onto his again. “Oh, he blushes. After dragging me in here to molest me—”

"I hardly ‘molested you’," objected Idrisar with a mock frown.

"Hey, I’m not complaining," assured Zevian, and Idrisar gasped as he positioned himself and eased into him again.

"Z-Zevian," breathed the agent warningly, pushing weakly at his shoulders with no real intention of dislodging him. "I think…we should save the rest for…later…ooh!"

Zevian didn’t stop; but then, Idrisar wasn’t really trying to make him. “It won’t do that again,” promised the sire breathlessly. He smiled down at him as Idrisar’s eyes rolled with pleasure, and he rotated his hips to massage him inside. “And you were getting close again, gorgeous. You really want me to stop?”

Idrisar moaned at the feel of his hard length inside of him, and he shook his head. “No…forests help me, I don’t.” He ran his hands over Zevian’s chest and panted, matching his thrusts. The car began to rock again as the sire’s pace quickened once more, and Idrisar forgot to care whether anyone stopped to take notice.

 

* * *

The sun was setting by the time they’d had their fill of each other, and after holding one another for a good long while, they parted and got dressed. Zevian fortunately kept a couple changes of clothes in the trunk of the car, for those moments when he needed to be at a meeting or event at short notice. He and Idrisar switched to the seat facing the one they’d ravished each other on, and he folded it down to get into the trunk without having to leave the car. While he dug out the small suitcase he kept in there, Idrisar used a wet wipe to clean up lingering traces of spunk on his body, before dressing. Their eyes met briefly as Zevian opened the case and shrugged out of his soiled shirt to put on the one stashed inside, and they shared a smile.

"You’re not going to have regrets about this, are you?" Zevian dared to ask, slipping his arm through the sleeve of the fresh garment.

Idrisar looked up from the phone he’d procured from his pocket, and he gave him a little smile and a shake of his head. “No. I made my decision before I even realized it, I think. I just needed the courage to act on it.”

Idrisar sighed and leaned toward him to kiss him softly on the lips, before gazing deep into his eyes. “Zevian, I don’t know where you’re going to take me or how in the world I’m going to balance being an Ulvari agent while in a long distance relationship with a guild lord, but I’m willing to try and make it work. I just want you to understand that our personal relationship can’t interfere with my job, so if you ever come to Valkyrie Falls and start trouble, I still may have no choice but to arrest you.”

Zevian smirked. “That was never in question. I’ve got no interest in changing who and what you are, baby. I’m just over the moon that you’re giving me a chance.”

He took Idrisar’s hands in his, forgetting to button the fresh shirt up, for the moment. “And hey, I know you’ve got your kid to think about, too. If you don’t want your family to know about us, I understand.”

Idrisar’s brows went up. “No. Out of the question.”

Mistaking his meaning, the guild lord refused to get his feelings hurt. “It’s okay, Id. I know it’s nothing person—”

"I will _not_ hide you away like some dirty little secret,” interrupted the lifebearer sternly. “You are going to meet my family, Zevian. All of them. I don’t lie to my boys and I’m not ashamed of you, so when this is over and things have settled down, we can make arrangements for you to come and stay with me for a couple of weeks, and get to know my family.”

Zevian stared in surprise, and a feeling of warmth stole over him. “Are you sure about this?” he said carefully, “because if we start letting people in on this, it’s going to get back to your department. I don’t want to be the cause of any issues with your career, Idrisar. I can accept keeping this hush-hush if we need to.”

"There are no organization policies against dating Zarnian mobsters," said the lifebearer with a wink. "Only regional felons, clients and underlings…and Ammiteo and I got away with it, need I remind you."

Zevian chuckled. “You sure did. I just don’t want to ruin that spotless reputation of yours.”

"You won’t," insisted Idrisar. "What _would_ ruin it would be for word to get out that I had a secret romance with you that I chose to hide. It would raise questions of why I would keep it from my colleagues, if it’s nothing compromising. People may question it, but I won’t get written up for having you as a boyfriend as long as it doesn’t create a conflict of interests. You and I already have an agreement about that, so I’m not really concerned.”

The guild lord smiled. “Just when I think I can’t fall any harder for you.” He reached out to caress his face. “You’re really are something else, kid.”

Idrisar turned his head and nuzzled the caressing palm with his lips, closing his eyes. “Just determined,” he murmured.

Zevian nodded, more than thankful for that. He heard his phone buzzing and he sighed, grateful that he’d silenced it but all too aware of all the calls he might have missed. Zarn was in the middle of a crisis, after all, and his guild stood to be in the thick of it very soon. “I’d better get that,” he decided aloud, snatching up the device. “Saber here. Yeah?”

He looked at Idrisar and found the lifebearer frowning down at the screen of his own cell phone. The agent fiddled with it and read something on the screen, while Adam explained what was going on to Zevian and asked why he hadn’t been answering his phone.

"Zevian," Idrisar said, clarifying things before the shark could even finish speaking, "They’ve started. Captain Darshaw and his fleet are converging on Voldus."

 

* * *

-To be continued


	7. Chapter 6

 

"Steady as she goes," ordered Antyan.

 

The Black Cat was amongst the three leading ships, along with Aurora's vessel, The Harpy. Her battleship was as antique in appearance as Antyan's—with the right modern adjustments and features added to it. Some modernization was required to compete with the sea vessels of today, but like her brother, she preferred the overall design of a galleon from the Old World. They had just made it into open waters, and they were making good progress toward their goal. Now, if only the reinforcements they had called for would arrive in time to secure Voldus, or even help drive off the Rippers swarming it. No matter. With a glance around at his fleet, Antyan did a quick head count and nodded in satisfaction. The forces he had now would at least be enough to keep the Rippers from taking Voldus. Once they had secured that island, they could consider the possibility of liberating Azirus.

 

It all depended on the participation of their allies, and how quickly they could be there. It also depended on Saber, and his ability to hold his own island while the Wayfarers took care of this. Antyan had little doubt that once they saw that their rivals were concentrating their forces on the other islands, the opportunistic Rippers might set their sites on Oricus. If they had Azirus secured as news sources reported, they just might be bold enough to try...and they were likely going to send another assassin or two after Zevian to try and get him out of the way, thereby ensuring disorganization and vulnerability, as they had with Voldus.

 

"I've made my contacts," Antyan said to the white-haired, black and green attired lishere that stepped up beside him at the wheel. "If they get here in a timely manner, I think we'll hold Voldus with relative ease."

 

Rhinan nodded and slipped an arm around his waist, ignoring the brow Antyan raised at him in response to the public display. "That is a good thing, bold one."

 

"Rhinan...the men..."

 

"Already know what we are to each other," assured the spirit singer with a chuckle and a sidelong wink at him. "You'll hold onto that rigid sense of conservatism to your last breath though, won't you?"

 

The captain sighed. "What of you? Your report said that you reached some of _your_ friends."

 

"I did," agreed the lishere, "and we may run into problems not anticipated by the council. There will be spirit singers amongst their ranks, those who are tired of the shenanigans of the island lords."

 

Antyan frowned. "Why in the world's wide oceans would they think the reign of the Rippers would be an improvement?"

 

"Do you really need me to explain it to you?" Rhinan raised a brow of his own, his ivory hair whipping in the salty air.

 

"Aye," answered the sire. "For one, I thought the Spirit Keepers of the Chalice were supposed to be neutral. For another...the Rippers are humans. Those elitists have made it no secret that they consider humans beneath them."

 

"Exactly," Rhinan answered with a nod and a humorless smirk. "Beneath them...little more than troublesome pests. Having the other islands run by lashran who have turned to crime is an insult to them; a disappointment. They don't want the guild lords representing their race, you see. Humans can be excused for their greed because it's a weakness of their kind, in their eyes, and once the riffraff of pirates have taken over the smaller islands, well, it will be easier for the Chalice to send in their elite forces and claim them once and for all. Do you see? They're letting the humans do their dirty work for them and thin their numbers in the process. When the whole of Zarn is in chaos, those who survive will look to the Chalice for protection."

 

Seeing the ruthless logic in it, Antyan nodded. "And that's when they'll clamp down hard and turn this place into another dictatorship, like Nandar."

 

Rhinan smirked. "They'll try, yes."

 

"It seems Rhuidhim is the only sane lashran country left," sighed Antyan. "Again though; I thought the Spirit Keepers were neutral. How did the Chalice government convince them to take on such and underhanded—"

 

"They didn't," advised Rhinan calmly.

 

"But you said there would be singers in the ranks." Antyan frowned at him giving him a full-on, amber stare as he squinted against the light of the setting sun.

 

"Ah, but there are other places to find spirit singers in the world, besides the Chalice," explained Rhinan. "The temple on the Chalice has locked its doors, Antyan. They refuse to take part in it. The governing parties on the island had to rely on mercenaries from other parts of Wyndrah. They've been plotting this for some time, I'm afraid, but it hasn't come to anyone's attention fast enough. That's how clever they are."

 

"So what will happen to them when the ruling council on the Chalice decides it's time to move in on the other three islands?"

 

Rhinan sighed. "Unfortunately, they are still under jurisdiction of the Council. There are laws currently separating the interests of the government from the interests of the Spirit Keepers, but in a state of emergency, the Keepers are obligated to help. When the fighting has died down and the government moves in to restore 'order', the Spirit Keepers will lend their aid, in the interest of helping the suffering and restoring the balance of these islands."

 

Antyan's expression darkened. "It won't be 'balance'. It will be oppression."

 

Rhinan nodded. "But organized oppression is better than chaos. Try not to judge my brethren too harshly. There are some who have not yet taken their final vows, and though their training isn't complete..."

 

He sighed and lowered his gaze.

 

Antyan stared at him suspiciously. "Rhinan, did you enlist the help of a bunch of fledgling singers?"

 

"I offered them a choice," answered the lishere softly. "Whether they decide to take it or not is entirely up to them. They will contact me when those who choose to help have converged to join us."

 

Knowing how it must pain him to involve young, untried spirit singers in this conflict, Antyan spared a moment to toss his reservations into the wind and put an arm around him in return. "Let's hope the Rippers don't find a really competent assassin to send after Saber."

 

Rhinan blinked at him. "You think the assassins were the Rippers' doing, after what I've told you?"

 

The truth dawned on the pirate, then. "Damn. His own government—"

 

"The Chalice doesn't govern the other three islands...yet," reminded Rhinan. "This is simply the act of one ruling government trying to take out the leader of another, through assassination. You know as well as I that this method is as old as the races of Wyndrah. They are allowing people to think the Rippers are responsible, but I'm afraid those ruffians—organized as they are—don't have the connections. As far as the Rippers themselves know, the assassination of the Voldus guild lord was orchestrated by Mr. Saber or one of his rivals for power, and they acted on the opportunity. The plans to invade Azirus came to be due to Mr. Quartz's apparent weakness in leadership. Voldus was simply an opportunity they could not pass up, once word reached them of the island lord's demise. The Chalice predicted they would do this, and they paved the way for them."

 

"May I ask why you didn't see fit to tell me all of this before?" Antyan's displeasure didn't quite show in his expression.

 

"Because I did not _know_ all of it before," answered Rhinan with a shrug, "not for certain, anyway; not before I communicated with my associates. Even if I had the information to share with our council, it would have done precious little good. It changes nothing. We would still move in on Voldus, because—let's face it—the Chalice is far too large a fish for us to reel in, as your sister would say. The only bit of information I've gathered since the meeting that is pertinent to our cause is the involvement of spirit singers, and we left the cove before I could even begin to gather everyone to inform them."

 

"But that puts a whole new perspective on things," insisted the captain. "Rippers and their sorcerers, we can deal with. A contingent of spirit singers is another matter."

 

"Only if we move in on Azirus," corrected Rhinan. "The spirit singers are gathered there, to keep that island secure. They may have one or two in their ranks at Voldus, but we have some of our own to even the odds. Not to mention, we have the most powerful elementalist in Wyndrah in our ranks—but please don't tell your uncle I said that; his ego is already phenomenal."

 

Antyan smirked. "We can always knock him down a peg by reminding him of how bloody awful he is with certain other fields of magicks."

 

Rhinan chuckled. "This is true."

 

Sobering at the enormity of the situation, Antyan compared it to knocking over a line of dominoes; once one fell, the others soon followed...unless someone managed to brace the last one before its brethren brought it down with them. "Saber needs to be informed."

 

"Of what?" Rhinan tilted his head in a manner similar to Erishar's.

 

"That his—that the Chalice government is responsible for sending assassins after him and Thadden, and not the Rippers."

 

Rhinan shook his head. "I don't think that would be wise, Antyan."

 

"And why is that?"

 

"Because it would distract him," answered the lishere simply, "and what could he do with this information? Nothing. The only purpose it would serve is to frustrate him further. We can inform him of the truth when this is over—for better or for worse. Right now, he needs only to survive and hold his island."

 

Antyan nodded in agreement, conceding the point. "At least he has Blackbird at his side. Aurora tells me he's quite impressive."

 

"He is," agreed Rhinan with a smile. "And quite likeable, I might add. He reminds me a bit of your father; though more...hardened, I suppose. A very good soul, though."

 

"And our progeny is safely there to watch over that sparkly buffoon," muttered Antyan.

 

Rhinan chuckled. "Now, be kind. Mr. Quartz has his strong points; one of which is his devotion to his daughter...his only family. He isn't the stuff of warriors, but he does have a good and determined heart."

 

"You see the good in everyone," sighed the pirate.

 

Rhinan nodded. "Except the Rippers."

 

It was Antyan's turn to chuckle. "Except for the Rippers," he agreed. A question loomed in his mind, one that he was afraid to hear the answer to, but needed to know. "What about my dream? Can you confirm that?"

 

Rhinan smiled, his dark eyes lighting up. "Yes. Word has been sent, though I daresay we may not see the result until after this battle is determined."

 

The captain's stomach lurched, and he stared deeply into his companion's eyes. "You aren't...just saying that?"

 

Rhinan looked at him with fond exasperation. "When have I ever lied to you, Antyan?"

 

A smile curved Antyan's mouth, and a renewed burst of confidence and excitement almost made his hands shake as he put both of them on the wheel to steady himself. "I was...concerned...that my dream was just a dream."

 

"It wasn't," assured Rhinan. A purple and blue butterfly flitted down from the sky, from Wyndrah new where. Rhinan held his hand out and it settled on his pointer finger, wings collapsing narrowly against the wind. "Well hello there, little friend."

 

Antyan glanced at the insect, then the darkening sky. "I won't even bother to ask where that creature came from."

 

Rhinan only smiled.

 

 

 

"I want clearance for helicopter pilots reinstated," Zevian said over the phone with his air traffic security executive. "We need video surveillance of everything that goes on in this fight. Send the best pilots and camera crews we have out to follow the Wayfarer fleet, but make damned sure everyone understands this coverage is for the eyes of my guild _only_. It's not news footage, and anyone caught leaking it to the press is going to earn a new asshole, torn by me personally."

 

Idrisar listened as he stood by the window, pushing the flowing curtain aside to look outside. He'd already offered his input, and he listened quietly while Zevian made arrangements.

 

"No, not the standard surveillance choppers," said the guild lord. "Send out three armored ones. Yes, I know they can't stay in the air as long. That's what the fuel barges are for. There's one between here and Voldus that's still unoccupied. The Rippers won't have time to worry about taking it, once the Wayfarers make it to the scene. Follow those pirate ships and keep the video streams constant, you hear me? Good."

 

Zevian hung up the phone and he looked up at Idrisar with a frown. "Why couldn't we use satellite surveillance again?"

 

Idrisar looked away from the window, his bright eyes seeking Zevian's. "Because it would be too easily tracked and leaked. I don't want your enemies getting hold of information that could compromise the security of your island."

 

Zevian started to smirk, but after watching Idrisar's serious and contemplative expression, he thought better of it. He got up out of his chair and he approached the lifebearer. Coming up behind him, he put his arms around him. For a few moments, he simply enjoyed his nearness and his scent. Then he spoke; softly into the rounded shell of ear supplied for him.

 

"We _will_ hold, Idrisar. For a while, at least."

 

The agent turned in his arms to look up at him. "I'm not concerned for Oricus, right now. I have people I count as friends on those fleets heading for Voldus right now. I'm worried for their safety."

 

Zevian nodded in understanding. He knew some of the individuals on those boats, himself. He'd be sorry indeed if he got word that Star—also known as Aurora—went down. "All we can do is keep communications open and monitor as best we can," he reasoned, kissing Idrisar's ear. "You _know_ nothing's going down without me knowing about it, right?"

 

Idrisar leaned back into his embrace, sighing. "I know. I just hope they haven't taken on more than they can handle."

 

Zevian turned him around gently. "Do you know what could help you relax?"

 

"You're going to say 'sex', aren't you?" Idrisar huffed, but he smirked in a faintly teasing manner.

 

The guild lord grinned in response. "No." He rubbed Idrisar's torso intimately, but he didn't let his hands wander...overly. "I was going to say a drink. You still favor whiskey sours, don't you?"

 

"Mmm," sighed the lifebearer, leaning back against him. "I probably shouldn't imbibe, though."

 

Zevian rocked him gently, nuzzling the side of his neck. "I know. Even Ulvari agents can stand to loosen up and have one now and then, however."

 

"You and your peer pressure," grumbled Idrisar, twisting out of his grasp to look up at him. "All right, make me a drink, then. Just don't expect me to have more than one."

 

Zevian released him and winked. "That's the sprit." As he went to the liquor cabinet in his study to do just that, he paused. "Shit. By the way, I need another favor from you."

 

Idrisar frowned. "Such as?"

 

Zevian sighed as he got out the items to mix Idrisar's drink. "I need to rush along Azurel's progress and get him out of here, before things start to get hairy. I planned on calling him up myself but...well, it's damned awkward for me if his mate answers the phone." He looked at the agent hopefully.

 

"And you think it will be any less awkward for _me_?" Scoffed Idrisar with a frown. He looked into Zevian's eyes and he could see some resentment lingering there. He sighed. Well, Azurel _had_ rushed off and gotten pregnant within a year of leaving him. He supposed wounded pride was a valid reason not to wish to talk to the dancer or his mate, and his sympathy for him won over.

 

"Fine. Give me the number, and I'll call him myself."

 

Zevian visibly relaxed. "Thanks, gorgeous. I'll write down a list of things I want you to say."

 

Idrisar sighed. He hadn't really expected to get this caught up in the guild lord's affairs, but he couldn't rightly blame Zevian. The man had already been more than generous and civil with his ex...but Idrisar himself felt unreasonable resentment towards Azurel. True, his mistake in leaving Zevian had opened the way for Idrisar to claim the man for himself, but he didn't believe in giving up on a relationship—unless domestic abuse was involved. If you loved someone…truly loved them…you worked out your problems and the relationship became stronger for it.

 

"Let's get this over with," muttered the agent as Zevian finished writing on a notepad and handed it over to him. He dialed the number and after four rings, a hesitant, familiar voice answered on the other line.

 

"H-hello?"

 

"Azurel, this is Agent Blackbird," began Idrisar, "I'm calling on behalf of—"

 

"Oh! Agent Blackbird!" Azurel sounded sweetly excited to hear from him. "How are you? I heard you were guarding Zev, but I didn't get the chance to say hello to you myself."

 

Idrisar sighed, all feelings of resentment on Zevian's behalf fading from him. He'd played an unwitting part in Azurel leaving the guild lord, after all, and the dancer really didn't have a mean bone in his body. "I'm fine, Azurel. Listen, Zevian is very busy, so he's asked for me to call and check on your packing progress."

 

"Oh." Azurel sounded slightly disappointed. "Of course, he wouldn't want to call himself."

 

Idrisar shot Zevian a dirty look that said in no uncertain terms that this was all his fault, and the sire visibly cringed under the admonishing stare.

 

"He's just very busy," excused Idrisar—which wasn't entirely untrue. Zevian just wasn't very busy at that very moment. He looked down at the scribbled notes written for him and he sighed. "Azurel, you need to try and be ready to leave by tomorrow. I'm sure you've heard the news about Voldus. Saber doesn't want to delay."

 

"I...thought Zevian said he can hold Oricus," said Azurel uncertainly.

 

"He can't make promises like that if the aggressors do choose to close in," Idrisar said; and he didn't need to read from the notebook for that part. "Azurel, I'm going to speak plainly in that I think you and your mate should take advantage of the resources offered to you and get out of Zarn, while it's still safe to do so. Saber wants you safely away from this place before conflict can come here, and I agree with him. Please, just focus on taking inventory and packing. Zevian's men will come tomorrow by noon, to begin crating up your things and escorting you to the ship."

 

"Okay," Azurel said slowly. "Agent Blackbird...is it really _that_ urgent?"

 

"It's best to move while the routes are still open and clear," reasoned Idrisar. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Azurel. I know it isn't easy to uproot yourself like this so late in your pregnancy, but it's really safer for you over all to get out of here while you can."

 

"I understand," answered the other lifebearer softly. "Agent Blackbird? I just want to thank you."

 

Idrisar's brows furrowed. "Thank me for what, Azurel?"

 

"For being there," explained the dancer. "You know…for Zevian. I was glad to hear you came."

 

Idrisar wasn't sure he was being entirely truthful. He detected a hint of wistfulness in his tone, and he again felt some mild annoyance with him. "You could have been there for him too, you know."

 

Zevian made a "cut" gesture—which the agent chose to ignore.

 

"I…I tried," excused Azurel lamely. "I _did_ try, Idrisar. He was just…distant all the time. I didn't leave to hurt him. I just felt like it was a lost cause."

 

Idrisar pursed his lips, more annoyed with himself than with the younger lifebearer. "I'm sure you did try, and this really is none of my business. I apologize for overstepping myself."

 

"That's okay," assured Azurel forgivingly. "You have a history with Zevian and it's only natural for you to be angry with me. I'm…I'm angry with me too."

 

Zevian sighed and gave him a look. Idrisar grimaced and felt his face warm up. Saber was a big boy, and Azurel had only done what he thought was right for both of them. Truth be told, Idrisar was as much at fault for their relationship troubles as they were. He could have had Zevian that day they first kiss, in the guild lord's private chambers in his club. Instead, he backed out of it and encouraged the man to either go for it with Azurel or let him know in no uncertain terms that it was never going to happen. He'd fired the starter pistol on that one, because he was too afraid of where a relationship with Zevian Saber would go, and he also had feelings for Ammiteo.

 

His Ammiteo. Idrisar took a moment to think of the chiseled, handsome features, the broad shoulders, the quiet smile. He suffered no guilt for his choice to get romantically involved with Saber, but he missed his mate every day. He had no regrets for choosing to be with the director. Their time together had been brief compared to his first spouse, but they'd made a beautiful son together and for that, he was thankful. He would always keep Ammiteo in his heart, like his first bondmate, and part of him lived yet in Seheret.

 

"We all make our choices," sighed the agent at last, "and I'm not angry with you. I'm sure you knew what you were doing and I know you aren't a malicious person." He couldn't help but smirk at Zevian when the sire face-palmed.

 

"I'm glad you can see it that way," replied Azurel. "I truly am sorry for leaving him, but like I said before; I'm glad you're there with him now. I…hope you can find happiness together, if anything ever happens between you two."

 

Idrisar flushed uncomfortably, and he nearly told him something already _did_ happen between them…but he chose not to say so over the phone. There would be more appropriate opportunities to reveal the truth to the dancer, and he didn't want Azurel dwelling on it when he should be focusing on getting himself and his spouse out of Zarn. He could hear it in the dancer's voice; he still had feelings for Zevian.

 

"Right now, what you need to be concerned with is organizing for your move," reminded the agent. "Don't hurt yourself rushing, but don't dawdle, either. Is that understood?"

 

"Yes sir," answered Azurel, subdued. "We'll be ready for them when they come to get us. Tell Zevian...tell him thanks. For everything."

 

"I will," promised Idrisar. "I wish you all the best, and congratulations on the baby."

 

He ended the call after that and he looked at Zevian. "Well? Did I relay everything you wanted?"

 

"More than everything," grumbled Zevian. At Idrisar's raised brow, he wisely chose to follow up with something more gracious. "Thanks for taking care of that for me."

 

"Azurel wanted me to tell you thanks for everything," said Idrisar. He put his phone away and he approached the taller lashran, putting his arms around his neck. "I hope you don't expect me to do that on a regular basis. That was...very awkward for me."

 

"Yeah, I know." Zevian lowered those riveting eyes of his and smiled almost boyishly. "I just wasn't sure I could talk to him right now, without saying something I shouldn't say."

 

Idrisar drew his head down for a kiss. "I'd say that's a forgivable excuse," he murmured.

 

Zevian put his arms around him and he rubbed his back, meeting his eyes. "Well, we've got everything organized as best we can get it. I think I'm going to have a shower and change into something more comfortable. I'd say a good scotch is in order, tonight. Help yourself to the spring water and order something for dinner, if you want."

 

"Actually, I was hoping for something with a little more bite to it," informed the lifebearer.

 

"Yeah?" Zevian looked surprised.

 

Idrisar shrugged. "Sometimes even I indulge myself, and I'm off the clock, now."

 

Zevian checked his watch, grinning. "Off the clock, huh?" He caressed the agent's face with his fingertips and gave him the bedroom eyes that made so many knees weak. "Maybe we could indulge in some...other things, then."

 

Idrisar kept a straight face, though his eyes lit up with his hidden smile. "Don't be greedy. We've already 'indulged' _that_ particular interest for most of the afternoon."

 

Zevian sighed. "Ah, well. Can't blame a guy for trying." He gave him a brief kiss on the lips before stepping back and winking at him. "I'd better get going, or I won't be able to keep my hands off you. There's an unopened bottle of that Cinnamon schnapps you like so much in the main liquor cabinet. Go ahead and help yourself while I get cleaned up, if you aren't planning on having a shower right away."

 

"You remembered," Idrisar said with mild surprise.

 

Zevian paused at the door with one hand on the knob, and he smirked at him. "I've been keeping a bottle of that for years, just in case you ever visited. I remember everything I've ever learned about you, Blackbird."

 

Idrisar smiled a little at that. "Then I'll help myself, as you suggest. Thank you."

 

Zevian nodded and left the study.

 

 

 

"Whitney darling, eat your vegetables."

 

The girl poked around with her fork sullenly, shooting her sire a resentful look. "How can you even think of food at a time like this, Daddy?"

 

Xellnaise sighed, glancing down at his own half-eaten plate without any real interest. "Because we still have basic needs, and putting ourselves in a state of malnutrition won't bring our home back. Please, sweetheart...just finish the broccoli and I shan't pester you any further."

 

Whitney sighed and took another bite. It was perhaps only because of the sadness in his eyes that she chose not to rebel further. She looked out the window of the little lake house they had moved into for the rest of their stay, at Zevian's suggestion. Seeing how stressed Xellnaise was, the Oricus guild lord thought he would do better in the relative privacy of the lake house on his property. Saber's men patrolled this are too, but they didn't come inside and it did give the displaced guild lord and his daughter a feel of having their own little house again.

 

Whitney stared at the lishere standing on the wrap-around porch; which connected to a deck leading out over the water, where some paddle boats were tied up. "What is he _doing_?" she demanded around a mouthful of food, pointing her fork at the sliding glass door.

 

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Xellnaise scolded, even as he spared a concerned glance at their protector. "He's...well, he's probably just meditating. Spirit singers do that a lot, so I hear."

 

"But he's been standing there like that for over an _hour_ ," she said. When her sire gave her a warning look, she dutifully chewed and swallowed before speaking again. "He's like a statue."

 

"Discipline is part of their training," reasoned Xellnaise, "just like sorcery or Ulvari training. I'm sure he's fine."

 

Whitney grinned at him suddenly.

 

"What?" Xellnaise wiped at his mouth with his napkin, suspecting he'd slopped without realizing it.

 

"You look funny with your hair all flat that way, Daddy."

 

Xellnaise smiled. "Yes, it's going to take some getting used to. I half expected Erishar to slap my hand when he caught me trying to style it on impulse, earlier today."

 

Whitney sipped her drink through her straw. "He likes you."

 

Xellnaise glanced at the lishere outside again. "What makes you say that?"

 

She shrugged and tucked a curly lock of hair back over her ear. "I can just tell. He listens to your boring old talks about the stars."

 

"Don't hurt Daddy's feelings," admonished the sire, but he was still smiling.

 

"He's cute," she observed, spearing another bite of broccoli with her fork.

 

Xellnaise's mouth dropped open. "Whitney, you're too young to think boys are 'cute'."

 

She rolled her eyes. "I'll be a teenager next year. You know that, right?"

 

"I choose not to dwell on that," he said dryly.

 

She grinned at him again. "You should go and talk to him. If he stays out there like that much longer, he might fall over the side of the rail and drown in the lake."

 

"He's not going to do that," scoffed the sire...but his dual-colored eyes strayed to Erishar again in a worried manner that he couldn't hide.

 

"You should check on him, just to be safe," she suggested. "How can he protect us if he drowns himself?"

 

The guild lord sighed. It was certainly a convenient excuse to check on the man. He gestured at her plate. "Finish your broccoli first, and then I'll go and make sure he's all right."

 

She ate the veggies surprisingly fast after that, and Xellnaise wondered why his little princess was so determined that he talk to his bodyguard.

 

 

 

Erishar didn't hear his companion, at first. Xellnaise called his name again, more insistently, and the lishere came out of his trance and looked at him. The moonlight had a rather flattering effect on the sire, shining on his long, silver hair that was now hanging straight down his back, instead of teased and styled in the usual manner. His pointed ears parted the silky mane and his expression was quietly concerned.

 

"Is everything all right, Erishar?" Xellnaise asked hesitantly.

 

The lishere nodded. "I was communicating with my mentor, through the spirit link."

 

Xellnaise nodded, lowering his gaze. "And how is that progress—ING!" He tripped over something—no telling what, and Erishar caught him before he could fall on his face or hit his head on the railing. "Thank you," muttered the embarrassed sire, his face now pleasantly ruddy.

 

Erishar released him carefully, his mouth twitching at the corners. "You're welcome. The fleet is making steady progress towards Voldus. Under the cover of night, they stand a better chance of making it there before the Rippers know they're coming—provided nobody tips them off."

 

"You think there could be a traitor in the ranks?" guessed Xellnaise with a frown.

 

Erishar shrugged. "It's always a possibility. The captain makes it a priority to expect anything and everything. He's a difficult man to take by surprise."

 

"I see." Xellnaise approached the wooden railing of the deck with more care, and he looked up at the sky with a sigh. The breeze coming off the lake blew his hair back from his shoulders, and Erishar watched him silently. "Will your mentor use the same method to contact you once the fight begins?"

 

Erishar nodded. "The captain's ordered radio silence, now that they're leaving Oricus waters. They won't be contacting us again through conventional means until they have something significant to report. I wouldn't expect to get any phone calls once the fighting starts, either."

 

"Saber will be monitoring the situation from the air, so I understand," reasoned Xellnaise. "I'm sure he'll keep me informed."

 

The lishere nodded, leaning forward against the railing and crossing his forearms over the top of it. He kept watching his companion from the corner of his eye, and he looked down at the rippling water of the pond. He heard Xellnaise gasp, and he immediately tensed and started to reach for his gun, his senses kicking up in preparation to weave spirit energy. "What is it?" he said in a low voice, seeing and sensing no danger nearby.

 

"The moon," answered Xellnaise, pointing up at the swollen disc rising up from the distant tree-line.

 

Erishar looked, his brows furrowing. "It's...round." Aside from the nimbus surrounding it and the size of it, he couldn't see anything to be alarmed about.

 

"Its phase isn't what concerns me," explained Xellnaise, his reflective gaze fixated on the orange sphere. "Look at the ring around it. Red. It means trouble...and bloodshed."

 

"A battle is about to start," reminded the lishere, relaxing somewhat. "Does it really surprise you?"

 

Xellnaise sighed and shook his head. "No, good point. I only hope it doesn't bode ill for our side."

 

Erishar smirked. "Sometimes, you almost sound like the captain and my mentor. They have an old-fashioned way of speaking, too."

 

"I think in my case, it's just an over-fondness for poetry," remarked Xellnaise softly. He looked at Erishar. "You aren't worried?"

 

The lishere tilted his head slightly, considering the question. "I feel concern, but there would be no point in me worrying myself sick. I have a responsibility to you and your daughter, and I can't let my concern for my...family...get in the way of that."

 

The exiled guild lord heaved a sigh and looked up at the stars again. "You're a more stoic person than I."

 

Erishar looked up, as well. "Can you read the future in the stars?"

 

Xellnaise hesitated a moment, before answering. "Sometimes. My associates think it's hokey, but I really do believe the stars can speak to us, if we really take the time to listen. I can't _make_ the answers come, though. Every time I've gained a premonition through stargazing, it's come to me unbidden...like the night after your captain helped me win back the harbor, three years ago."

 

Erishar tilted his head again. "What did you see? Or, what did the stars tell you?"

 

Xellnaise glanced at him as if suspecting he was just humoring him, but upon seeing the genuine curiosity on his face, he answered. "I didn't hear a voice or see a vision, but that was the night that I knew I was going to lose my home, some day. I...really thought I had more time than I did, and I had hoped that message would change with time, but then you came, and the Rippers returned. The stars tried to warn me."

 

Erishar nodded thoughtfully. "You couldn't have prevented that. If they were trying to tell you anything, it was to prepare you to leave."

 

Xellnaise closed his eyes. "Yes, I agree. Thank you for not making fun of me."

 

The lishere snorted. "I talk to dead people. Who am I to judge?"

 

That brought a smile to the sire's face, and he blurted a chuckle—which he quickly covered up with his hand. "I apologize," he huffed. "I shouldn't laugh."

 

"Why not?" Erishar smiled at him. "I would."

 

That made Xellnaise chuckle louder, and the lishere joined him.

 

 

 

Idrisar searched for his lover—his client—after having his shower and changing into a pair of track pants and a t-shirt. Adam tipped him off by telling him he was in his study again, and the agent went to it and politely knocked, before letting himself in with the key he'd been given. Zevian was sitting at his desk, watching his computer screen. He glanced up and smiled handsomely at the lifebearer as he came in and locked the door behind him.

 

"What are you doing...as if I really need to ask?" Idrisar said as he walked softly over to the desk and around it.

 

Zevian sipped his scotch and nodded at the screen. "Watching security feeds. The air convoy isn't going to take off to follow the Wayfarers until they've reached the border point, so there's nothing else to see right now."

 

Idrisar came up behind him and leaned over his shoulder to peer at the screen. "It's quiet," he observed. He sensed the guild lord's tension, and he laid his hands on his broad shoulders. "There's nothing more you can do for now, and you'll strain your eyes watching those security feeds like a hawk. Your people will let you know if anything's amiss, Zevian."

 

The sire closed his eyes as Idrisar began to knead his shoulders with strong, skillful fingers. "I hate it when you throw logic at me."

 

Idrisar chuckled, speaking into one of Zevian's pointed, pierced ears softly. "You need your rest."

 

"I'm fine. Mmm, that's nice." Zevian tilted his head to the side as Idrisar nuzzled his jaw, breathing in the fresh scent of his damp hair. "Did you get your drink? I think I can smell the cinnamon on your breath."

 

"I did," assured the agent. "And I spoke with my youngest briefly, before having my shower."

 

"How's he holding up?" Zevian put one hand over the left one kneading his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

 

"He misses me," sighed Idrisar, "but he's having fun with his older brother and the family. They keep him occupied."

 

Zevian nodded in understanding. "Family is good for that. Orin sent me a text telling me to watch my ass, earlier. I know the kid's trying to play it cool, but if I don't send him a message every day 'till this is finished, he'll probably find some way to get down here and check on me himself."

 

Idrisar chuckled. "He's a determined one, your son. He has his mate and his band to comfort him, though."

 

"And thank gods for that," muttered Zevian. He caught one of Idrisar's hands and kissed the side of it. "Thank gods for you, too."

 

Idrisar smiled at his sincere statement, and he turned the expensive office chair around to face him. "You need to relax. Until something happens, there's no sense in being this tense."

 

"Hey, I'm trying to," objected Zevian. "What do you think the scotch is for?"

 

Idrisar smirked at the glass, and he gracefully straddled the black-robed sire. "I know a better way to relax you," he alluded, and he removed the glasses he'd put on to replace his contacts after his shower. He dropped them on Zevian's desk and he eased the guild lord's robe open, baring more of his chest as he started to kiss his face and neck.

 

Zevian's hands settled on his hips, before cupping his bottom. "I thought we'd already indulged enough in that?"

 

Idrisar nibbled his ear. "Business before pleasure," he agreed, switching to the melodic dialect of Nandarian, "but we have no further business to take care of right now, do we?" Quite familiar with the best way to get a sire to relax, Idrisar didn't stop.

 

"Damn, I'm glad we hooked up," sighed Zevian blissfully as the agent deftly untied his robe.

 

 

 

_Valkyrie Falls International Airport, 4:48 pm:_

"Ouch! Dude, that was my foot!"

 

Glaive grimaced and shushed his companion. "Sorry mate," he said in a whisper out the corner of his mouth, "I can't really see you."

 

"But you said if we run into a spirit singer I'd be spotted," hissed the knight's voice in his ear. "How is it _you_ can't see me? You're the one that worked the spell...or whatever."

 

"I can see your aura," explained Glaive carefully, "but you aren't 'solid' to me. I can't see details, and neither will any other spirit singers—but the good ones will still catch sight of your outline and work out something's amiss. Now, would you please shut your gob before we reach the security gate? This will be a very short trip, otherwise."

 

There was a soft sigh, and then silence. Glaive hated having to do things this way, but having a private jet for the trip only meant fewer people to hide from. As far as the agency and their contacts were concerned, Glaive was traveling alone. He'd stuffed Haden's clothes in with his own when he realized they might question why he had two bags of it for what was intended to be a brief investigative mission. Poor Haden would have to remain carefully shielded and quiet for the entire trip and afterwards; until they left the Chalice.

 

He was about to send a mind-speech to his partner and try to console him, but then he heard a whispered comment he'd been dreading since they left for the airport.

 

"Um...Glaive? I think I'm going to have to pee."

 

The Ulvari shut his eyes and begged the ancestors for patience, while at the same time smirking with amusement at the knight's dilemma. _~"Just hold it 'till we're in the air. As soon as the pilot gives the signal that it's all right to move around the cabin, I'll go to the lavatory and you can come with me to piss."~_

Haden sighed, but he didn't argue.

 

 

 

-To be continued


	8. Chapter 7

* * *

"Glaive…"

"I know; you’ve got to piss," muttered the Ulvari agent. "Just wait for the seatbelt sign to go off and we can get up. Just be quiet!"

Of course, he could have answered him in mind-speech and saved himself the hypocrisy, but he was too anxious over the possibility of Haden getting discovered to consider that.

"Well, okay," whispered Haden after a moment, "but you’d better be ready to move fast, bud. I’ve _really_ got to go.”

Glaive hid a smile, and he thanked the stewardess as she came by to give him a bag of peanuts for the flight. He cast a warning, sidelong glance at the “empty” seat beside him, and he offered another warning to his partner.

~”Keep it quiet, Haden. The minute anyone suspects I’m smuggling a human into the Chalice, we’ll be in for a world of pain.”~

_~”I’m already in a world of pain,~”_ answered the knight silently, his mental voice full of woe. _~”There’s going to be a suspicious puddle under my seat soon, if we don’t head for the hills so I can pee.”~_

Glaive fought a snicker. ~ _"There aren’t any ‘hills’ to be had here, mate, but I’ll try to get you into the lavatory as soon as I can. Just hold it a little while longer."~_

Haden’s voice sounded dismal. _~”I’ll try, but if we hit any turbulence it’s going to be party time for my bladder and there’s no amount of shaming to stop that.”~_

The lishere couldn’t hold back his laughter at that, and the stewardess—who happened to be a lifebearer—gave him a troubled look that said in no uncertain terms that he thought he was a few nuts shy of a barrel. Glaive just gave him a shit-eating grin and waited until he walked away in discomfort. The seatbelt light finally clicked on, and he unbuckled his safety belt and got up with a grunt. He sensed his partner’s presence following him as he made his way through the short isles to the lavatory. He cast a look around to be sure nobody was in visual distance, before opening the door and stepping in.

"Hurry," he whispered aloud to his companion.

Haden obligingly crowded in with him, brushing up closely against the Ulvari agent. “Don’t look,” he requested. “You know I can’t pee when someone’s watching.”

Glaive’s brows furrowed. “I can’t see anyth—oh, never mind.” He did his best to turn around so that he wasn’t facing his camouflaged partner, and it was only through his Ulvari training that he could manage to do so in such cramped quarters. He heard the sound of Haden tinkling into the pot, and it went on for quite some time before he flushed.

"Okay, now I need to wash my hands."

Understanding the need for personal hygiene, Glaive squirmed aside so that they could trade positions. He grunted when Haden’s elbow collided with his stomach and he imagined the knight’s sheepish grin when he apologized. The faucet was pressed down and the water came out in a spurt.

"I hate plane sinks," complained Haden. "The water never stays on long enough to get my hands rinsed off."

"I’d help you," muttered Glaive, "but I’m trapped, right now. Keep your voice down, love. If any of the crew walks by and hears me talking to someone in here, it’s going to raise suspicions."

"Oh yeah," said the knight in a softer voice. "Sorry."

He finished washing his hands, and Glaive was treated to the interesting sight of a paper towel liberating itself from the holder and scrunching up in mid-air. It was balled up a moment later and dropped in the little trash receptacle lid.

"All right, let’s get back to our seats," urged Glaive, now that Haden was finished.

"Just a minute," insisted the knight. "I’ve…got an idea."

"For what?" demanded the lishere—and then his buckle undid itself. He looked down with surprise as his belt was pulled open and his pants were unzipped. He started to grin in spite of himself. "Haden, what are you doing?"

He felt a hand go down his pants a moment later, and he got his answer. “You’re a bold one, when you’re invisible,” breathed the Ulvari agent.

"It’s not like we can get caught," reasoned Haden’s voice huskily. "You’re in here alone, right?"

Glaive’s head fell back against the wall as the hand began to move. “Right. They’ll just think I’m wanking off in here. A good idea is a good idea.”

 

* * *

The dawn hours had approached, and soon the sun would begin rising. Antyan and Rhinan had retired to the captain’s quarters of the Black Cat to rest up a bit, before the fighting started. Plans seldom turned out as expected, though. Antyan was in the boxed-in bed, true enough, but he wasn’t sleeping. He lay on his back with his pants tugged down over his hips and his shirt hanging open, with a particularly amorous lishere on top of him. It was perhaps ironic that an augmented human from his father’s bloodline was conducting a similar act in an air vessel with a lishere companion of his own. The parallel was lost on the pirate lord as he stared up at his partner and ran his palms over his bare chest and stomach.

"This isn’t…resting," announced Antyan breathlessly as Rhinan rocked on top of him, straddled over his hips.

The lishere smiled at him, his black eyes velvety with pleasure and gentle lust. His pants lay in a discarded heap with his boots and underwear on the floor, leaving him clad only in his dark emerald jacket and button-up black shirt. Both were unbuttoned, and he made quite the beautiful and sensual picture in naught but that and his flowing white hair.

"There’s no chance of you finding rest at a time like this," excused Rhinan, his voice amazingly steady as he rode him, "not without the aid of some drug or spirit singing, and since you’ve refused both…well…it’s been a long time, Antyan."

The sire groaned softly, his hands sliding down lower to stroke Rhinan’s animated hips and thighs, before one of them sought out the bouncing staff of his erection to pet it. He gazed up at him with hooded amber eyes, his breath catching with the smooth, rolling motions of the lishere’s hips.

"Go ahead and tell me I’m being inappropriate," challenged Rhinan, his smile growing. He sighed and closed his eyes, picking up the pace a bit. "You know you want to."

Antyan took a deep breath and exhaled as evenly as he could. “Actually, I was going to ask you to…shift more to the left.”

"Ah, I see." Rhinan chuckled, and the sound ended in a soft moan as he obligingly shifted his weight, causing the other man’s stiffness to press at a different angle inside of him. "Like…this?"

Antyan smirked. “Yes, like that.” It was more for Rhinan’s benefit than his own, and he was annoyed with how level he sounded at a time like this. He thrust beneath him and he was rewarded with a gasp as the long, elegant bronze hands pressed against his chest curving to dig the fingertips against his skin. “Exactly like that.”

Rhinan’s throat hummed with a sound that was almost like a low bird’s trill, and it faded into a moan as Antyan’s practiced aim stroked him inside just right, with each pelvic motion. “Oh, that really isn’t fair,” protested the lishere, even as his head lolled on his shoulders and his body temperature rose. “Antyan…”

Feeling like he was getting some revenge for being ambushed—never mind that he was enjoying this as much as his companion—Antyan stroked Rhinan’s cock a little faster. He fell into the moment, appreciating the supple beauty of the lishere’s bronzed body, the unique sounds he made when in pleasure, and the expressions that flitted over his elegantly handsome face. He felt like he had the upper hand again…but then Rhinan looked down at him with a clever little smirk.

Antyan knew what he was up to before he even started it, and he shook his head, causing raven-black locks of hair to fall over his eyes. “Don’t you do it…not now.”

"Whyever not, my whispering night bird?"

"Because of the obvious," answered the pirate sternly, slowing his attentions on the other man’s body. "We’re at sea on our way to a naval battle. I need my wits."

"We aren’t at battle, yet." Rhinan’s palms slid down his chest and stomach, and with that physical sensation came a breath-robbing, mind-numbing flow of amplified sensation that made Antyan’s back arch. "We have time."

Antyan’s golden eyes fluttered shut helplessly and a moan escaped his lips. Panting softly, he shook his head. “Rhinan…enough.”

The lishere shook his head, his ghostly hair tickling Antyan’s body as the long strands caressed his skin with the motion. “Not yet. I’ve only just begun.”

Another wave of pleasure crashed through the pirate, and he bucked, making his companion cry out with pleasure as well. His mouth fell open and he bucked again, tossing his head. Rhinan was relentless, however. He played his body like an instrument, tweaking his senses so that all the pleasures of their lovemaking were doubled…then tripled. He could have gone further than that, if he wanted to—Antyan had already proven himself resilient enough to handle it—but he mercifully chose to use moderation. At least, for _him_ it was moderation. For Antyan, it was heavenly torture.

Rhinan bent over the writhing sire, kissing his gasping lips and tracing his chin with his tongue. Even for someone getting so heavily swept up in the throes of passion, Antyan was remarkably quiet. He growled low in his throat and he bore down on his groans, muffling them without conscious thought. Another man might have been hollering at the top of his lungs by now, begging and pleading for it to stop…or to go on forever. It was difficult to tell which one he wanted, once Rhinan got started on him.

The climax came swiftly, overcoming the pirate before he could even attempt to stall it. He’d given up on stroking Rhinan off and he held onto his hips tightly and drove into him from beneath, his teeth clenching on a moan he couldn’t quite hold back. He filled him, but there was still more left in him to give. With a growl, Antyan rolled over, taking his lover with him and pinning him beneath him. He kissed Rhinan hard enough to bruise both their lips against their teeth, and he started taking him hard and fast.

It was the lishere’s turn to cry out, and he wisely stopped tickling the parts of Antyan’s spirit that magnified carnal sensation. He held him tightly and panted shaken encouragement in his pointed ear; incidentally getting some of Antyan’s hair in his mouth. He blew it aside covertly and stroked it back with one hand, while clutching at his back with the other.

Antyan vaguely heard himself snarl a curse after several moments, utterly bestial with lust despite Rhinan having stopped his manipulations. He felt the lishere beginning to clench around his thrusting length, felt his legs wrap around his waist like a vice, and then they were both coming together. Rhinan’s avian-like cries were hot and moist against his throat, while Antyan’s rougher, throatier exclamations got lost in the spirit singer’s hair.

A final shudder, a low grunt, and it finished with both of them in a panting heap. Rhinan stroked Antyan’s thick, black waves of hair to one side and he kissed his sweaty cheek in an adoring manner. “Wild, fey thing,” he sighed with appreciation. “That was… _most_ satisfying.”

Antyan couldn’t have spoken if he tried. He was trembling in the aftermath, stunned as usual by the reactions his partner so easily brought out in him and the intensity of their coupling. He managed to lift his head from his shoulder enough to plant soft kisses over his mouth and jaw, his breath still coming fast and uneven.

There was a knock at his cabin door.

Antyan rolled his eyes, annoyed to have the afterglow disrupted. He swallowed and found his voice with difficulty. “What is it?”

"Cap’n, we’re sailing into Voldus waters," called his first mate through the door. "You ordered us to hold the fleet once we reached these coordinates! They’re awaiting your orders, sir."

Antyan sighed. At least he’d gotten the chance to be intimate with Rhinan again, and for that, he was grateful. Remembering another lover he’d once had—a human one with bright, laughing eyes, freckles and ginger hair—he tended to silently cherish every moment he got with those he loved. “I’ll be right there. Tell them to wait.”

"Aye, Cap’n!"

Antyan looked down at the still-flushed face of his lover, and he raised a brow when he saw Rhinan smiling at him. “What?” he demanded.

"My timing was nearly flawless," answered the lishere cheekily. He stroked Antyan’s back with his fingertips. "You see? I told you we had enough time."

The pirate nearly cracked a smile. “Never let it be said that Rhinan is immune to pride.”

 

* * *

A little while later, Antyan stepped out onto the deck after dressing and tidying up a bit, now donning his hat and sporting his unusual black owl on one shoulder. The skies were still dark, and clouds had rolled in to blanket the horizon. There was the scent of rain in the air. He looked to his first mate and he nodded, leaving him at the wheel.

"Inform the rest of the fleet that we’re to hold here for another thirty minutes."

The other sire stared at him, blinking copper-colored eyes at him. “The sun will be coming up by then, sir. I thought the plan was to push the attack while it was still too dark for them to see us coming?”

Antyan glanced at the sky, stroked his owl’s beak with a finger and nodded. “It still is. The sun is rising late today, and the weather will mute it. Do as I’ve bidden you, Javel.”

The golden-haired sire nodded, though he looked doubtful. “Right.”

Realizing that his companion hadn’t come up on deck to join him yet, Antyan looked toward the hatch leading inside. “Maintain this, while I go to check on something.”

Javel saluted him. “Aye, sir.”

Without another word, Antyan went inside to check on Rhinan. He found him sitting at his desk by the window, and he closed the door for privacy before approaching him. Rhinan was dressed again, but he had his head bowed and his hands crossed over his lap. Knowing him as he did by now, Antyan’s demeanor softened. Tenja chirped and he stroked her beak again to quiet her. She shut her eyes and cooed in response to the petting, and Antyan crossed the room.

"You can remain down here, until your talents are called for," he said softly.

Rhinan looked up, and there was a troubled expression on his face. “I vowed to assist.”

Antyan nodded, and he finished closing the distance between them. He cupped the lishere’s chin and gazed into his dark eyes. “And I know you will…whenever your assistance is needed. There is no point to you compromising your morals by participating before such time.”

The spirit singer stared back at him, looking strangely innocent despite his great age. A tentative smile curved his lips, and his pale lashes swept down as he lowered his gaze again. “Yes…I can assist in other ways, without resorting to violence.”

"You can," agreed the captain softly. "I would never ask you to take a life."

Rhinan tilted and turned his head, so that he could place a kiss on the hand that had cupped his chin. “Thank you, Captain Darshaw.”

He spoke the formal title in a loving, familiar way that made Antyan’s sentiments flare. Before he knew what he was doing, the sire bent over to place a kiss on Rhinan’s lips. “I’ve got to go back up. I trust you’ll be all right down here, until your action is required.”

Rhinan nodded. “I will. Keep a weather eye on the horizon to the west.”

Antyan gave him a hesitant, doubtful look, and Rhinan took his hand in both of his and stared into his eyes. “Believe, Antyan. I would never ask you to, if I didn’t know it to be true.”

The owl stepped back and forth on Antyan’s arm, moving her head from side to side as she examined the lishere with as much curiosity as her master. She turned her head and nipped playfully at the captain’s pointed ear, sticking out from between dark strands of hair. Antyan nudged her irritably with one hand and shot an accusing look at her—to which she responded with a soft hoot and a cooing noise.

He smirked and looked back down at his lover. “Well then, if you say it’s true, then I can’t contradict that until I have proof otherwise.”

 

* * *

Zevian stumbled down the stairs, barely awake. He grumbled a greeting to one of his house guards in passing and he wandered into the kitchen. It was still dark outside, as the sun hadn’t yet begun its climb to the sky. Shaking his head, wondering why on Wyndrah he was even up at this hour, he made his way over to the coffee maker and clicked on the counter lights so that he could see what the hell he was doing.

"Too fucking early for me," he complained as he opened one of the cabinets in the huge, mahogany and ivory themed kitchen. He smacked his head on the cabinet door and he muttered a curse, before reaching in for the bag of his favorite coffee beans. Pouring a cup into the grinder, he replaced the bag and put the lid down on the appliance. Just as he started to grind the beans, arms encircled his waist from behind and he yelped.

"What are you doing up so early?" inquired Idrisar’s voice from behind as he halted the grinding.

"Getting the shit scared out of me by a sneaky Ulvari," answered the guild lord with a smirk, placing his hands over Idrisar’s. "I swear I’m going to buy you a bell to wear."

Idrisar chuckled and placed a kiss on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be a very good Ulvari, if I couldn’t move silently. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Zevian was still so over the moon about their hooking up, he could take a lifetime of getting startled every morning by him. He turned around and gazed down at the lifebearer, admiring how cute he looked, sleepy and sporting bed-mussed dark hair. He combed his finger through it, grooming it back into place for him.

"You should let it grow out," he suggested.

Idrisar shook his head. “I’m used to wearing it short. I could never manage it if I let it grow to Azurel’s length.”

Zevian chuckled. “I’m not saying you should grow it down to your ass, but maybe to your shoulders…like it was that day Azurel put the hair weaves in for your little sex kitten act. That was a good look for you, and I like your natural colors.”

Idrisar sighed, shutting his eyes with pleasure as the sire’s long fingers combed through them. “You just like your lifebearers with long hair.”

Zevian shrugged. “True, but no pressure, kid. You’re so hot, you could get away with shaving it bald.”

"Hmm, maybe I should do that."

At Zevian’s sincere look of horror, Idrisar laughed. “I’m kidding.” He poked him in the side, making him grunt. “I _like_ having hair. I’m just used to wearing it above the collar. It gives opponents less to grab onto.”

"Hmm, I never thought of it that way." Zevian lowered his mouth to Idrisar’s and gave him a kiss. "Makes sense. I wish you’d at least let the natural color grow out."

"I’ll think about it," promised the agent. He suddenly stiffened in Zevian’s arms, his pale blue eyes narrowing as he peered through the bay window. "Zevian…what’s that? I can’t see clearly without my glasses; are those helicopter lights out there?"

The guild lord turned with a frown to look out at the dark morning skies. Sure enough, there _were_ helicopters descending on his property…out by the lake house. “Shit. Those aren’t mine. Looks like birds from the Chalice. What the hell are they _doing_ here?”

Idrisar leaned over the counter to stare out the window. “Xellnaise.”

"You think he called them?"

Idrisar shook his head, and he produced a small pistol from somewhere in his robes. “No, but he’s out there with his daughter. Gather your men, Zevian. I don’t like this.”

"I’ll go out there and see what they want," suggested the sire, starting away.

Idrisar grabbed his arm and stared up at him with piercing, serious eyes. “You aren’t setting foot out there without me at your side.”

The guild lord smirked, unsurprised. The Chalice Council wouldn’t likely have their people gun him down in cold blood, but it was probably best not to take chances. “All right. Let’s change into something a little more appropriate and go see what they’re doing here.”

"Boss?" Vylden poked his head around the archway leading into the dining area, his green eyes quietly worried. "We’ve got visitors."

"Yeah, I see them," assured Zevian. "Agent Blackbird and I are going to get changed and go out to greet them. Pick two of our guys and get ready to come with us. Make sure they aren’t trigger-happy, too. I don’t want to start a bloodbath unless they bring it to us."

Vylden nodded. “Right.”

 

* * *

Black-uniformed lashran troopers had already descended and broken into the lake house, by the time Zevian and his entourage approached on the lawn to meet them. The gray light of dawn was approaching, the sun’s light choked out by thick cloud cover. Xellnaise Quartz stumbled out of the house, forcibly removed by a pair of the Chalice agents. His daughter soon followed, and the girl was putting up a bigger fight than her adopted father. Kicking and shrieking, she struck one of the agents in the kneecap with her bare foot, nearly making him buckle. One of the black, gold-tipped choppers landed on the lawn just as Erishar was dragged out, bleeding from a cut on his forehead. One of the lishere’s vivid green eyes was swelling shut, and his detainers —three of them—looked as though they’d been through a bloody war. One of them appeared to have a broken nose, another walked with an obvious limp, and the third had a fat lip and blood trickling down his chin.

Zevian and his group stopped before the chopper as it touched down, and the guild lord glanced at his men in silent warning not to make a move yet. The guild lord leaned toward Idrisar to mutter a question, nodding at the invading agents. “Ulvari?”

"Definitely," confirmed Idrisar. "I recognize some of them from the last time I was on these islands."

Zevian sighed. “Perfect. That probably explains how they got past our air security. Guys, don’t even make a move for your weapons unless they attack first. You won’t even get to pull the trigger before they’re all over us.”

"Got it, boss," said Vylden with stoicism typical of him.

A tall sire with close-cropped blond hair stepped out, assessing the situation with cold eyes and a stern, chiseled face. He nodded in satisfaction upon seeing Xellnaise in custody, and he turned to look at Zevian.

"Zevian Saber," he greeted with a nod. "We’ve come on the authority of the Chalice to bring Xellnaise Quartz in to—"

"What are the charges?" interrupted Idrisar, stepping forward.

The sire scanned him briefly with pale green eyes, his gaze lingering a moment on the claw weapon covering Idrisar’s left hand. “Who asks?”

"Agent Blackbird of the Valkyrie Falls Alliance dispatch," answered the lifebearer readily. "You will tell us what the charges are against this man, or else I’ll contact the organization and inform them that you’ve unlawfully kidnapped a political figure of Zarn."

"Blackbird," repeated the sire, recognition lighting his eyes. "I’ve heard good things about you. I am Director Falgas of the Chalice Ulvari."

Idrisar nodded. “A branch that wouldn’t exist now, if it weren’t for my organization’s efforts to secure an Ulvari facility in your country. I’ve heard of you.”

"If you’ve heard of me, then you know I don’t tolerate intransigence," said Falgas in a warning tone. "Don’t interfere with this operation."

"Demanding to know what authority you have to take Mr. Quartz into custody isn’t counted as ‘interference’," countered Idrisar calmly.

"You aren’t even a field agent anymore, from what I understand," said Falgas, just as calmly. "You’re an instructor now, aren’t you? Though what you’re doing here in Zarn is beyond me. Shouldn’t you be teaching a class?"

Zevian whistled softly and grimaced. “You really shouldn’t have said that, pal.”

Idrisar nudged him to silence, his blue eyes cold behind the oval-framed glasses he was wearing. He stared Falgas’ 6’5 frame down as if he were an annoying boy playing at being a man. “If you favor a lesson, I’ll gladly give you one. International Ulvari authorities might question why the director of the Chalice branch chose to pick a fight with an Avras agent on a diplomatic mission, however.”

Falgas hesitated. His men waited with their captives, one of them clamping a hand over Whitney’s screaming mouth to muffle her. Seeing this, Xellnaise surprised his retainers with a sudden burst of resistance, breaking free from them to utter the words of a spell.

"Shut him up!" barked Falgas as thunder cracked overhead.

They reached for Xellnaise just as a bolt of lightning came down from the skies and scorched the earth at the feet of the men holding Whitney. “Unhand my daughter,” he warned in a surprisingly menacing tone, “Or the next one goes up someone’s ass.”

Falgas considered it, holding his hand up to stop his men before they could grab Xellnaise again. He nodded at the struggling human girl. “Let her go.”

They obeyed, and Whitney ran into her father’s arms. “Shh, darling,” comforted Xellnaise, stroking her hair. “It’s going to be all right.”

"W-why are they _doing_ this?” she wept.

Xellnaise shook his head. “I don’t know.” He looked at Falgas with a frown. “Why _are_ you doing this, sir? I’ve done nothing against Chalice laws.”

"He hasn’t," agreed Idrisar. "You have no authority to—"

"We aren’t placing Mr. Quartz under arrest," explained the Chalice director. "Word has reached us of the…situation in the outer islands, and my agency has come to take him into custody for his own protection. Mr. Saber, you might want to consider coming with us, as well."

Zevian’s brows went up, and he cast a smirk at his men as if sharing a terribly funny joke. “Hear that, boys? They came sneaking into my territory in the dead hours of morning, manhandled my guests and now they want me to come hang with them.” He suddenly sobered, staring the director in the eye. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Falgas shrugged. “Suit yourself, sir. Things are going to get ugly here, and the Council instructed me to extend their hospitality to you. You would be safe there.”

Zevian snorted. “They’ve got a funny idea of ‘hospitality’. It doesn’t look like Quartz or his daughter want to go with you.”

"We aren’t taking the human child," said Falgas disdainfully. "Her kind aren’t welcome in the Chalice."

Xellnaise paled. “I won’t leave my daughter behind.” He hugged Whitney tighter.

"I’m afraid you have no choice, sir," answered Falgas in a level tone. "Our orders are to bring you in." He looked at Zevian. "And should the guild lord of Oricus interfere, we have permission to use deadly force."

Zevian clenched his jaw, his turquoise eyes blazing with anger. “Do you, now?”

"Zevian…" Idrisar said in a concerned, warning tone.

"You know, I really don’t like you," stated Zevian, ignoring his bodyguard’s cautioning voice. "Take a nap."

Falgas’ brows furrowed, and he blinked. “What are you—”

The big sire suddenly collapsed, unconscious. His agents drew their weapons, and Zevian’s men drew theirs in turn. Idrisar jumped in front of the guild lord protectively and called out in an authoritative voice. “Everyone _stop_! Vylden, put that gun away. Zevian, wake him up.”

His admonishing tone gave both sides pause, and Zevian grudgingly gave Falgas’ spirit a nudge to wake him back up. The director awoke with a groan and got to his feet with the help of one his agents. “Spirit singer,” he muttered, looking at Zevian with new respect. “I’d heard rumors that you inherited some of your sire’s gifts.”

"That and more," promised Zevian. "Quartz is under my protection. Stick your beak in further and you’ll find out what else I can do."

"Please," Xellnaise said, "no bloodshed." He looked at his daughter with an agonized expression, before ushering her toward Zevian and Idrisar. "I’ll go without a fight. Whitney, darling, you stay here with Mr. Saber and Agent Blackbird. They’ll keep you safe."

"Daddy, no!" Whitney clung to him tearfully, refusing to be parted from him.

"They won’t allow you to come with me," reasoned Xellnaise huskily, "and I can’t have blood shed on my account. Please, sweetheart…you’re all I have left. Let our friends protect you for me."

"B-but it’s not _fair_! Why can’t they just leave you alone?”

"They think they are protecting me," answered the stargazer, "and I suppose the Chalice is safer than Oricus, but…" He looked at Zevian, quietly desperate.

"Don’t worry," said Zevian grimly. "Nobody will touch your kid while I’m breathing, Quartz."

Xellnaise sighed, and he forced a smile for Whitney. “You see? He’ll protect you while I’m away. These men aren’t going to hurt me, darling.”

She glared brown daggers at said men as Idrisar gently ushered her out of her father’s arms and away from him. “They’d better not! Hey, you!” She pointed at Falgas, who raised a brow. “If you hurt my Daddy, I’ll…I’ll cut your balls off!”

"Whitney!" Xellnaise’s round eyes and scandalized tone made Zevian’s men chuckle, but the Ulvari were too disciplined to show their amusement beyond a twitch of the mouth. The stargazer looked at Erishar, who was barely conscious. "What of my bodyguard?"

Falgas considered the spirit singer. “Leave the lishere.”

"I wouldn’t do that, if I were you," Zevian suggested, suddenly inspired by an inner plot.

"And why not?"

The Oricus lord shrugged, nodding at Erishar. “Look at what he did to your guys, all on his lonesome. He doesn’t even have Ulvari training. The kid’s good at what he does, and if you’re really trying to protect Quartz, taking his bodyguard along with you might be a good plan.”

"I…I really don’t think—" Xellnaise began uncertainly, his worried gaze flicking to Erishar.

"Bring him," interrupted Falgas grudgingly. His men hauled the captive lishere to his chopper, and the director looked at Zevian again. "I wish you luck, Saber. The Rippers are flocking to these islands from all over Wyndrah, and sooner or later, they’ll take yours too."

"They’re the ones that need luck, not me," Zevian said with confidence. "They’re welcome to try."

Xellnaise watched his daughter as he was herded onto the chopper, and when she started to cry again, he looked like he might soon join her. “Zevian!”

The Oricus lord’s gaze met his.

"Get her _out_ of here!” demanded Xellnaise. “Somewhere safe!”

Zevian nodded grimly. No matter how confident he was, there was still a chance his island could fall and he understood perfectly what it was like to want one’s child safe. “You bet.”

Xellnaise visibly relaxed, showing how much trust he had in Zevian’s ability to do as he promised. “Thank you.”

He allowed the Chalice agents to escort him into the chopper without another word, his aching gaze on Whitney all the while. Falgas saluted Idrisar sharply, then bowed. “Despite our exchange of words, it was a pleasure to meet you, Agent Blackbird. I wish the circumstances were better.”

Idrisar stroked Whitney’s hair soothingly, and he looked at the displaced guild lord as he vanished into the aircraft. “You realize you’ve just made yourself accountable for that man’s safety, I presume. I hope you keep your word and see to it that no harm comes to him.”

Falgas didn’t respond to that, but a briefly troubled look crossed his face. He climbed into his chopper, and the other agents retreated to their own. As the uninvited fleet took to the air to carry away their prize, Zevian’s gaze met Idrisar’s and he silently communicated to him through mind speech.

_~”They’re not taking him for his safety.”~_

Idrisar nodded. _~”I know, but you couldn’t afford to lose men or your life over it. You made the right decision, Zevian.”~_

_~”Did I?”~_ Zevian’s gaze flicked to the crying girl in Idrisar’s arms. _~”Doesn’t feel like it. I swore to keep him safe when I took him and his daughter in.”~_

_~”You’re still keeping your vow,”~_ insisted the agent. _~”To the best of your ability. You are only one man, love. A wise person knows when to retreat.”~_

Zevian grimaced. _~”Whatever they do to him, they’re going to get back in spades. That’s my new promise.”~_

 Idrisar sighed. _~”One mountain at a time, Zevian. By the way, why_ did _you tell them to take Erishar? He could have been useful here. Now he’ll be locked up with Xellnaise.”~_

Zevian started to grin in a cold, conniving manner as they began their trek back to the main house. _~”Because when Darshaw finds out his first mate is in their hands, there’s going to be hell to pay. I won’t have any trouble garnishing his assistance in springing Quartz.”~_

Idrisar looked surprised, and then he started to smile. _~”That’s a bold gambit.”~_

The sire smirked. _~”It’s what I do, babe. Gambling is half the strategy in being a guild lord.”~_

 

* * *

"But I want to stay here in Zarn with you!"

Zevian sighed and combed his fingers through his hair, worn loose because he hadn’t had time to tie it back. “Listen to me, little lady; your Dad puts _you_ above everything.”

"As any good parent should," agreed Idrisar with a nod and a frown. His phone started to buzz and he excused himself to the hallway to answer it.

"He told me to get you safely out of here, and that’s what I’m going to do," Zevian finished. He thanked Johnny when the shark handed him a box of tissues and a soda, as requested. He dabbed Whitney’s tears from her dark cheeks and handed her the drink. "The people that attacked your island and drove you out are bound to come here, sniffing out trouble. If that happens, I think we can hold but there’s going to be fighting. It’s no place for a kid, understand? I’ve got people that can take you in… _good_ people. You can stay with them in Rhuidhim until they release your Dad.”

"But what if they _don’t_ release him?” asked Whitney. “I don’t trust those Chalice people!”

Zevian ruffled her hair. “That just makes you smart, kiddo. Never trust authority. Things are going to get ugly here and your Dad doesn’t want you anywhere near it. You’ve got to be strong for him and do as your told. That’s the best way you can help him, right now.”

She sniffed and sipped her drink through the crazy straw provided for her. “I…I just want to be as close as possible to him.”

Zevian nodded in understanding. “My son would come down here in a heartbeat, if I’d let him. Idrisar’s family, too. You’ve got to understand though: our job as parents is to protect our kids…even the ones that are grown up pain in the…er, anyhow, that’s what it means to be a parent. Your Dad will get out of the Chalice eventually, but in the meantime, you’ve got to be somewhere safe where he can come to you when that happens. Understand?”

She sniffed again and nodded. “Yes, sir. You’ll…get him out?”

The sire groaned inwardly at her hopeful expression, but he nodded. “I’ll do what I can, dumpling. I’ve already got a plan, so just leave it to me.”

Whitney gave him a hesitant smile. “Thank you, Mr. Saber.”

He grinned. She really was a cute little thing. “How about I put on some cartoons or something for you to watch?”

"That would be nice," she agreed.

Idrisar walked back into the living room and he met Zevian’s eyes meaningfully, just as the guild lord finished turning the TV on and putting on a kids’ channel. The sire got up from the couch, patted Whitney on the shoulder and walked over to speak with his lover.

"What’s up?" whispered Zevian. He was too mentally worn down to bother with mind-speech, right now.

"That was Director Talith, from my branch," explained the lifebearer in a low whisper. His eyes flicked briefly to the human girl in Zevian’s living room. "He called to warn me about the Chalice’s intention to move in on Oricus and collect Mr. Quartz. Unfortunately, the call came too late."

Zevian frowned. “Why the hell did he wait so long to touch bases with you, if he knew this was coming?”

"But he didn’t," sighed Idrisar. "Not until just recently, and he only found out because he made the decision to have the Chalice database hacked to monitor what the Ulvari guild there is doing during all this."

Zevian’s brows shot up. “Hacking his own brethren? That guy has balls.”

Idrisar nodded. “If the Ulvari council finds out, Talith could not only lose his job, but face a _very_ long prison sentence. He was regretful that he didn’t reach me in time, but honestly, it wouldn’t have made a difference. As I said before; you couldn’t spare any of your men to keep them from taking Xellnaise.”

"Any idea what they plan to do with him?" Zevian lowered his voice even further, speaking in a bare whisper so that Idrisar had to basically read his lips.

The agent shook his head, his expression darkening with worry. “There was nothing in the files to suggest their plans for Mr. Quartz. Given that yours is the only outer island left uncontested right now, I think they may want to get information about your defenses. Zevian…I think the Chalice is trying to take over the whole of Zarn.”

The sire snorted. “Good luck with that. Those cats like everything nice and organized. Trying to take control of these islands would be chaos for them.”

Idrisar’s concerned, serious look didn’t fade. “You know how determined lashran councils can be, when it comes to governing their lands. Don’t blow this off, Saber. I…I think they could be responsible for the recent attempts on your life.”

Zevian grimaced. “You think? Actually, that would make some sense. That last guy you carved up was an Ulvari, wasn’t he?”

The lifebearer nodded, lowering his gaze. “I initially had thoughts that he was a crooked agent, offered a big enough bribe to take you out. Dammit, I killed him too fast.”

Zevian chuckled and rubbed his arm. “You were just looking out for me.”

Idrisar’s troubled eyes met his. “Yes, but I should have tried to take him alive. I just…reacted without thinking, ended the threat without considering the information we might have gotten to him, if I’d subdued him.”

"Well, it’s been my experience that Ulvari agents are hard to break," whispered Zevian, caressing the lifebearer’s face. "Even if we’d kept him alive, we might not have squeezed the information from him."

Idrisar sighed. “True, but…Zevian, I’m so sorry.”

The sire frowned. “For what?”

Idrisar averted his gaze. “My own guild came after you. It wasn’t just a rogue, if my suspicions are correct. I’m…ashamed.”

Zevian put his arms around him and drew him close. “Listen to me, gorgeous; the Ulvari were always assassins before anything else, and the Chalice has wanted to get their greedy paws on the other islands for a long time. It isn’t your fault, or the fault of your agency. You came, and you didn’t have to. You’ve got a kid you’ve been raising on your own for the past three years, and it kills me to think I’m the reason you’ve been separated from him, but I’m grateful that you’re here…for more reasons than one.”

Zevian cupped his chin and guided his head back, staring into his eyes. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, baby.”

A hint of a smile graced the agent’s lips. “Even so, I’m mortified. I’ve always tried to conduct my business honorably, and this is…it’s just slimy.”

Zevian smiled at him. “Not everyone has your sense of honor, Id. Not even other Ulvari agents. Your kind are a dying breed.”

Idrisar put his arms around him, returning his embrace. “Maybe so, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep them from reaching their goal. I made a promise to you, after all.”

Zevian nodded. “You sure did…and you’ve kept it. I can’t ask for anything more.”

He lowered his head and kissed Idrisar softly.

 

* * *

They landed and disembarked in the Chalice just as the sun was rising, and they got through airport security without a problem. Haden dutifully kept quiet and let Glaive collect the luggage, before following him through the airport to the exit.

"So far, so good," muttered the lishere with a sigh of relief as they stepped out the sliding doors. "Now to get a ride to the harbor and—"

"Agent Glaive," called a voice from the left.

Both partners looked to see a group of sires approaching, wearing the acolyte robes of the Spirit Keepers.

_~”Stay calm,”~_ warned Glaive in mind-speech as they closed the distance. “Can I help you?” he asked aloud.

_~”Crap…I think they can see me,”~_ Haden informed him nervously. _~”That redhead is staring right at me, Glaive.”~_

Before the lishere could offer a response to that, the redheaded sire in question nodded in Haden’s direction. “And Agent Wolfe. Welcome to the Chalice.”

"Bugger," muttered Glaive with a sigh, dropping his bag. "Listen, I can explain."

"No need for that," assured the redhead calmly.

Beside him, the lifebearer with the long blond braid kept a wary eye out. “We know why you are here, and we’ve come to escort you. We cannot linger.”

"Uh, I don’t want to be a pain in the ass," Haden whispered, "but I’m not budging ‘till I know what’s going on. Who _are_ you people?”

"We’re on your side," assured the redhead, "And Lord Rhinan’s fleet is waiting for us to join them. Please, come with us quickly, before any suspicions arise."

"Just a moment," Glaive said with a frown. "Who the hell is Lord Rhinan?"

All five of them blinked in surprise, and a taller sire with brass colored hair spoke up. “Only the most powerful spirit singer ever to grace Wyndrah! Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him.”

Glaive snorted. “Can’t say that I have, but I split partway through my training. Who is this ‘Rhinan’ bloke with?”

"Captain Darshaw," supplied the redhead. "They’ve moved in on Voldus, and that’s where we need to be if we’re going to help. Are you with us, or not?"

"Wait, wait," begged Haden. "How does this guy know who we are?"

"He has ways," answered the blond lifebearer mysteriously. "Come, we need to hurry!" He reached out and grabbed the knight’s arm with ease, tugging on it.

Glaive’s pink eyes sought out Haden’s. “Well, shit…we can’t stay here. If they say they’re with Antyan, I suppose we can trust them.”

"Famous last words," grumbled Haden as he fell into step with the group. They had no way to reach Antyan, Aurora or Vurkanan right now; none of them were picking up. Hoping they weren’t skipping merrily into a trap, he refrained from reaching for his weapons as the group of strangers led him and Glaive away from the airport entrance to a van. They got in and took off, heading straight for the highway and the exit to the harbor.

 

* * *

 -To be continued


	9. Chapter 8

* * *

"What is he _waiting_ for?” Vurkanan muttered as the skies continued to lighten. It was still quite dark, but they would soon loose the advantage they’d planned on, if Antyan didn’t get the fleet moving.

Aurora shrugged. “Like you said the other day: he knows what he’s doing. I’m just as anxious as you are to start tearing into these bastards, but we aren’t budging ‘till we get the signal. I’m tired of trying to work out his logic.”

Vurkanan sighed and leaned back against the wall of the pilot room. He looked around at his surroundings, contemplating the blend of classic and modern technology that composed the Harpy. “I like this,” he said. “It’s old and new at the same time.”

"I’d have been just as happy to stick with the ‘old’," sighed Aurora, "but even my brother has replaced the outdated parts of the Cat. I guess I should get with the times and stop lamenting over the past being gone."

"Well, we couldn’t stay in stasis forever, and we couldn’t stop the world from turning while we slept," reasoned Vurkanan. "It hasn’t really changed all _that_ much, darling one.”

"Thank gods for small favors." Aurora checked some of her settings on the control panel and flipped a few switches. "Might as well put some of these on ‘idle’ and save fuel. We can make use of the wind in the sails until we need the engines for speed."

Vurkanan nodded, finding the logic sound. “Just remember, a lot of this modern naval technology was based on your father’s designs. It’s really just an evolved version of Lythallendar’s engineering, if you think about it.”

Aurora considered that with a smile. “You know, you’re right! I never thought of it that way before. None of this would be here now, if it weren’t for Daddy’s work inspiring other engineers.” She sighed. “Damn, I miss him.”

Vurkanan stepped closer and kissed her on the cheek. “So do I, wildcat. I didn’t mean to put you into a morose state; I only meant to show you the silver lining.”

"I know you did," she assured ruefully, "and your observation _does_ help me appreciate all of this modern garbage more. It’s comforting to think that there’s a piece of Daddy in all of it. Makes me feel like he’s watching over me, and he’s here in spirit.”

Vurkanan nodded. “That’s the idea.”

"But even thinking of him in a chipper way makes me sad," she went on, lowering her gaze. She absently stroked her hand over the polished, oaken wheel. "It just reminds me again that he’s gone."

Vurkanan swallowed a lump. “I know. I can hardly mention any of them without wanting to cry. I honestly don’t know how Valamir lived with so much grief, and continued moving on after each loss.”

"Because Valamir was more practical than you are," reasoned the piratess. "You can’t stop living when you lose people you love, Vurk."

"So you keep reminding me," grumbled the sorcerer. "I can still lament their loss, though. You’re just as guilty of that as I am, dear heart."

"Aye," she conceded with a humorless smirk. "That, I am. I just worry about you, Vurk."

He smiled. “Well, considering that I’ve caught myself flirting with another lifebearer, I think it’s safe to say I’m beginning to move on…in unexpected ways.”

She chuckled. “That Talith is a cute one, too. I applaud your taste.”

"Even if nothing comes of it," sighed Vurkanan. Thinking of the Ulvari director made a little thrill go through him, however, and his doubts over his attraction to the man quickly ceased to be.

* * *

 

Antyan sensed his lover coming up behind him, and he turned to face him with a question in his eyes. Rhinan nodded and spoke softly. “They are coming.”

"And they know the coordinates?"

Again, the spirit singer nodded.

"Good." Antyan spared him a lingering look, taking note of the somber expression on his elfin features. Rhinan abhorred violence, even though he understood that it was sometimes necessary. The frustrating thing was that the man could probably capsize the entire Ripper fleet all on his own, if he put enough force behind his spirit workings. Antyan wouldn’t ask him to do that, though. He couldn’t be responsible for bruising the gentle lishere’s conscience that way.

"Just remember; you don’t have to use your gifts beyond protecting this ship, unless there is no other choice."

Rhinan smiled softly. “I know. I’ll just return below deck and start weaving the protective barriers now.”

Antyan nodded, and as the spirit singer retreated, he turned to the sire that was filling in as his first mate, during Erishar’s absence. “Signal the fleet.”

"Aye, Cap’n."

The man went to do his bidding, and Antyan narrowed his eyes on the dim horizon thoughtfully. He needed to know what they were going into, needed to know how much the situation had changed since he’d last sent the owl to scout.

* * *

 

Aurora saw the light flashing from the Black Cat, and she grinned. “Vurk, we’re moving in. Get your mojo flowing.”

Vurkanan made a flourish with his hands and he grinned back. “It already is, my love.”

"Good," She adjusted her headset and tuned in to the Harpy’s speaker system. They wouldn’t be using radio broadcasts until they had a foothold on the island, to avoid the risk of their enemies finding some way to tune in and listen to their strategy. They had a basic game plan, of course, but she knew from past experience that these things rarely panned out according to play. Once the fighting started, they’d have to go by feel and instinct. She had her doubts that Captain Charles would be capable of taking cues from his allies, due to his self-assured arrogance. She supposed she’d find out soon enough.

"This is the captain," she announced over the speaker system, "we’re moving in. Full sail ahead! We’re conserving fuel until we need the extra speed. All hands on deck, man the artillery, and keep a sharp eye out!"

"I can’t believe you’re not using ion technology," sighed Vurkanan.

"Torpedoes and cannons work just fine," she insisted. "Antyan’s been getting by for all this time with them."

"But ion energy is so much more efficient," argued the sorcerer, "and it’s clean, now. No pollution."

"So they say," she said dubiously, shrugging. "You just never mind what I use to blast my enemies out of the water, and concentrate on your own job."

"As soon as I see something to fry, I’ll gladly do so," promised Vurkanan. "I’m going out on deck."

She nodded. “Probably a good idea.”

He made a graceful bow to her, and he vanished in a sparkle of light to reappear on the deck outside. Aurora rolled her eyes. “Show-off.”

But Vurkanan had enough power reserves to squander it a little in flashy displays.

* * *

 

"You can interrogate me all you like. I have nothing of value to share with you."

Xellnaise wished he felt as calm as he sounded. Bravery was difficult to come by, when one’s child and loved ones were under threat. The Chalice operatives had made a mistake when they left Whitney behind and they were all too aware of it, now. They had threatened to retrieve the “human waif” from Oricus and do harm to her in front of him, if Xellnaise refused to cooperate with their demands. Were they able to do so, the stargazer was quite sure he would break…had he any information he could have supplied for them.

The trouble was, he honestly had no tactical information about Zevian Saber or his island that he could impart in the first place. He’d been honest enough when he told them that the man kept his secrets guarded well, and he wasn’t one to share information concerning the defenses or weaknesses of his territory. He wasn’t being heroic, he was simply ignorant. Not that he would betray such information easily if he had it, but Xellnaise was never one to give himself airs where none were deserved.

"You’ve dealt with Saber for years," insisted the uniformed sire—whose name Xellnaise had quite forgotten already. "Do you really expect me to believe you know _nothing_ of his defenses or his methods?”

"Oh, I know a few things," corrected the stargazer thoughtfully. "Just nothing that could significantly aid whatever it is you plan to do with the information you’re after. I can tell you exactly what you already know; Mr. Saber is cunning, ruthless and tenacious. You’ve seen the same seawall defenses I have, but you no doubt are aware that when it comes to Oricus, there is always more than meets the eye. Zevian hasn’t shared anything with me that could give you an advantage, and I couldn’t tell you more even if I wanted to."

"Then tell me more about Mr. Saber," insisted the agent. "He has a son, doesn’t he? In Avras?"

"From what I understand." Xellnaise shrugged. "I believe he’s an actor…or was it a musician? I can’t recall. I’ve never met the young man."

"Don’t play coy with me!" The agent suddenly loomed over him with a menacing scowl, his shadow falling over the captive guild lord and the chair he was sitting in. "You know he’s a bassist."

"I do?" Xellnaise swallowed nervously, his anxiety compromising his common sense. "W-well, I can hardly tell one musical instrument from another. Is the bass the one with six strings or four?"

"It doesn’t matter," said the agent sternly. "Where does his son live?"

The stargazer blinked. “How should _I_ know?”

"You’ve had dealings with the man for years and it’s been alleged that he puts more trust in you than any other guild lord he’s done business with."

"Really?" Xellnaise would have put a hand over his chest in a gesture of flattery, if they weren’t cuffed before him on the table. "Well, isn’t that nice."

The agent sighed and dragged his fingers through his collar-length blond hair. He looked at the mirrored window against the wall and nodded. “We’re getting nothing useful this way. Take him back to his cell, for now.”

Xellnaise tensed as the guards came in, but they didn’t mistreat him. They helped him up and escorted him quietly out of the room and down the corridors back to his cell. Erishar’s cell was right next to his, and the moment Xellnaise was relieved of his cuffs and locked back up, he went to the bars separating their chambers and knelt beside the lishere. Erishar had fresh bruises on his face, and he was sitting limply on the floor, with his back against the south wall. His head was down and he didn’t appear to be moving.

"Hey, what have they done to him?" Xellnaise demanded indignantly of his captors.

The guards glanced at the other captive. The one on the left smirked slightly. “He was being belligerent. He had to be subdued and sedated, to keep him from using his spirit singing abilities.”

"So beating him is your solution? This is unwarranted brutality and I’ll—"

"You’ll do nothing," snapped the other guard. "If you want your lishere dog to get kicked, you’ll keep him in check and tell him not to start trouble when we come for you again."

Xellnaise glared at the guards with uncommon aggression, his heterochromic eyes flashing beneath the fringe of his silver-white bangs. “Do this to him again, and my willingness to put up with your constant questions will come to a crashing end. I’ve answered you truthfully and I haven’t resisted in the slightest, but it has been on the condition that no further harm comes to my companion or my daughter. I really don’t have to be so docile, you know.”

The guards glanced at one another, looking briefly impressed. “You’ll cooperate one way or the other,” said the one on the right, “and your pirate allies will too, if they want you back in one—”

The other guard nudged him, looking at him with alarm. He lapsed into silence, glared menacingly at Xellnaise and Erishar, and then gave his companion a meaningful nod. “Sweet dreams, guild lord.”

Xellnaise watched them go, before returning his attention to the injured lishere in the cell next to his. Erishar had already visibly healed some—which meant he was in a regenerative trance. That was good…until they decided to play again and give him an encore of their violence.

"I am so sorry, my friend," sighed Xellnaise. He reached through the bars and stroked the lishere’s soft, tangled hair, admiring the blend of raven and silver tones in it. "I doubt you can reach your companions in your state to let them know what has happened, but perhaps I can do it for you."

Astral projection was a cinch for him after all—when he wasn’t distracted by fear. Xellnaise retracted his hand reluctantly and went to his bunk to lie down in it and try to relax. Ordinarily he would sit cross-legged on the floor to do this, but he suspected if the guards came by and saw him doing that, they might guess what he was up to. He was a little surprised they hadn’t doped him like they’d done to poor Erishar, but he supposed he’d come off as so meek and intimidated that they didn’t believe he’d dare try to use his magicks to escape.

Well, that was their mistake. The one thing Xellnaise could say favorable about his peaceful nature was that it was often mistaken for timidity, and that tended to make people underestimate him. He closed his eyes and relaxed as best he could under the circumstances. It took him a few moments to get in the right mindset, due to his concern for his companion. After a little while, he was able to drift out of his body, and he hastened away in his astral form to get word to Captain Darshaw.

* * *

 

"What is the situation on the cannons?" questioned Antyan as his junior First Mate approached his side.

"Loaded and ready, Cap’n. Navigator says we ought to—"

Before he could complete his sentence, Rhinan came on deck and interrupted him. “Antyan, I must speak with you immediately!”

The spirit singer ushered the other person away from the bridge without allowing him to finish what he’d been about to say. Used to Rhinan’s impulsive behavior, Javel merely sputtered a bit and didn’t offer much resistance. When they were alone on the bridge, Rhinan approached his puzzled lover again. “Our progeny is being held captive, and he’s in bad shape.”

The pirate lord’s eyes narrowed. “When and how did you find this out?”

"Just moments ago," answered Rhinan. "I got an astral visit from Mr. Quartz. Authorities from the Chalice came this morning to collect him ‘for his own protection’. Naturally, their true purpose was interrogation. I believe they are attempting to get information concerning the fortifications of Oricus, though it’s unclear to me as yet what their motivations for doing so are. He was initially attempting to reach you, but you’ve shielded yourself so completely that he could not reach you." He smirked. "This is what comes of your paranoia."

Antyan wasn’t amused. “Where are they being held?”

"The Ulvari headquarters on the Chalice." Rhinan’s mouth tightened. "Which would make a rescue through ordinary means difficult, to say the least."

The raven-haired sire smirked. “Then we shan’t use ‘ordinary means’. Go, Rhinan. Get them out of there and take them to our Wayfarer haven.”

The lishere hesitated. “And what of you and the impending battle? What if you need my assistance?”

"We’ll hold without you," promised Antyan with confidence. "You’ve already put protective shields in place, and we have one of the most powerful elemental sorcerers alive in our ranks. I would rather send you in than rally half a fleet to conduct this endeavor. You’re the only one with any hope of retrieving Erishar and Quartz from an Ulvari facility without massive bloodshed."

Rhinan sighed and looked out over the water. In the distance, he could just see the outline of Voldus. A fog had rolled in, hindering visibility but offering a greater chance to move in before the Rippers could mount a proper defense. Fires lit the night sky, and he shook his head and wondered if the Rippers intended to raze the city to the ground. It did seem that Antyan’s observation was correct, though. Their forces were divided. How many of them were on their way to Oricus right now had yet to be determined. One thing at a time.

"Very well," he finally murmured. "With any luck, my friends will arrive in time to assist, should there be spirit keepers in the Ripper ranks as I suspect. You have confirmed that your additional reinforcements are on their way?"

Antyan nodded. “They aren’t likely to arrive before the battle starts, but they _will_ make it before it’s over with.”

"Every little bit counts." Rhinan squeezed his shoulder. "I suppose I’ll be on my way, then. I shall contact you once I have our friends safely away and secured."

"Just be careful," advised Antyan—though it was hardly necessary. He knew that Rhinan would do everything in his power to conduct this rescue with minimum bloodshed.

"You as well." The lishere stepped back, closed his eyes in concentration and then vanished like smoke on the wind.

* * *

 

"Boss, a fleet’s been spotted coming in from the east."

Zevian looked up from his computer, and he exchanged a grim look with Idrisar before looking at the informant. “I don’t suppose they’re flying Wayfarer colors?”

Adam shook his head. “‘Fraid not. It’s Rippers. Looks like they’ve got some air units with ‘em, too.”

"Fan-fucking-tastic," sighed the guild lord. "Well, we knew this was probably coming. Tell harbor security to start blasting as soon as they get in range. I don’t want a single Ripper to set foot on this island."

"Got it." Adam took off to relay his orders. When they were alone again, Idrisar looked to Zevian and he offered a sliver of comfort.

"At least you got most of the civilians evacuated, Zevian."

"Hmph." Zevian tapped his fingers on his desk, his mind racing through the possibilities. "That’s going to be a cold comfort if there’s no home for any of them to come back to. I’d better tune in to the harbor defenses and keep an eye on things."

He would have liked to be there personally to oversee the defenses, but Idrisar had cautioned him that he needed to avoid putting himself in un-necessary danger and be prepared to flee if necessary. He’d do no good to his island by making himself a bigger target than he already was.

* * *

 

Just as the sun was beginning to crest the horizon, the Wayfarer fleets closed in on the Voldus harbor and the alarms began to blare. They’d been spotted, but the cover of darkness and the fog had indeed provided them with the advantage, as Antyan had hoped. Flare signals went up and the Black Cat took the lead, flanked by the Harpy and the Cyclone. Smaller battle ships spread out behind them, awaiting Captain Darshaw’s first shots to begin their attack. The sleek, formidable vessel made an effective battering ram, crashing over the waves as her cannons began firing. One of the largest Ripper ships was in the process of turning to fire back when it got hit, and the sounds of the crew’s yells could be heard as the cannonball smashed a hole through the hull.

The air began to thicken with ozone, and Aurora looked up suspiciously as clouds began to form over the Cat and her ship. “Vurk, they’ve got Bargel in their ranks!” She cursed and tried to figure out where the threat was coming from, attempting to locate the magic user so that she could target him or her.

Vurkanan was already stepping out of the bridge and onto the deck, his flashy garments blowing around him as he began to cast. “I’m already on it, love.”

His defensive spell went up just in time as lightning flashed down from the skies. It struck the protective shell he’d erected around the Harpy, webbing out eerily before dissipating. The Black Cat was likewise undamaged from the elemental attack, thanks to the shields that Rhinan had put up around it. The Cyclone, however, had no such magical defenses and two of its crew got fried. Men rushed to put out the fire that had started on deck, and Captain Charles could be heard shouting orders at the top of his lungs. Vurkanan gazed out over the water, and he saw the flash of red as a man on one of the Ripper ships waved his arms in the motions of spell casting.

"Now then, one good turn deserves another." With his target in sight, Vurkanan hollered to Aurora. "Allow me to light the way for you, wildcat!"

The lashran sorcerer gathered energy for a spell of a different sort, smiling confidently at the distant figure of the enemy caster. He finished the spell with a grunt of effort, splaying his fingers wide as it reached its climax. An enormous fireball soared over the water, bigger than the ship Vurkanan was on. He saw the frantic motions of the other sorcerer and he knew he’d abandoned his offensive spell in favor of attempting a protective one. The sheer power behind the pyroclastic conjuring was too great for the Bargel to deflect completely, and several crew jumped ship as it struck and set parts of the ship on fire. The sorcerer was still alive, but singed. He had no opportunity to try and launch a counter offensive, though, because Aurora followed up with a torpedo.

The ship carrying the Bargel sorcerer floundered and started sinking as the Harpy’s torpedo struck, blasting a massive hole right through the center of it. Those remaining on the vessel abandoned it—including the spell caster.

They’d gotten a good start, but now the Rippers were organizing their defenses and shots were getting fired back. Missiles streaked out from the harbor, fired from the artillery defenses. Ion shots joined the projectiles and soon the Wayfarer’s advantage began to fade. Still, they outnumbered their quarry and the amount of battleships coming out to meet them weren’t going to be enough to put much of a dent in their numbers.

Then Antyan noticed another fleet in the distance, heading down the coast from the east. Evidently, the enemy had more ships on standby in Voldus waters—or these new vessels had been on their way elsewhere and turned around when they got word from the harbor. Either way, they had a bigger fight on their hands.

"Cap’n," shouted one of Antyan’s men, "We’ve got ships flying Wayfarer colors coming in from the West!"

Antyan held onto the wheel as the Black Cat rocked under the concussive force of an explosion. Rhinan’s shields were holding, but there was no telling how long they would last. He looked in the direction his crewman was pointing and he saw three ships heading in; one of which he recognized as Captain Hunter’s vessel, the Sea Lion. A smirk adorned his lips. That was exactly the kind of firepower they needed.

His smugness didn’t last, however, because a huge wave began to form ahead of them, climbing in size and force as it rushed toward his fleet. There was his proof that the Rippers had spirit singers in their ranks…and he had no means to counter it. He compressed his lips and he grabbed up his microphone to bark a hasty order to his crew.

"Batten down the hatches and brace for impact."

* * *

 

"Er…Vurkanan?" Aurora stared at the approaching menace of water.

Outside on the deck, the sorcerer also stared, a grimace on his face. He shook his silver head and backed up, heading back into the bridge with Aurora. “Sorry, dear one, but I can’t counter this on my own. It would take a dozen magic users to do so. My advice is to hold on tight and hope my shields deflect enough to keep us above water.”

When Bakarus launched a similar attack on Tariff all those years ago, he’d had an entire army of sorcerers pooling their efforts to conjure the massive wave. They had no such army at their disposal, so there was nothing to do but try to stay afloat. She swore and grabbed the intercom microphone, taking a page from her brother’s book and warning the crew to prepare for the impact.

* * *

 

"Whoa…this is messed up."

Haden stared wide-eyed at the wall of water closing in on their allies up ahead. He’d been in some pretty intense situations before—particularly when the whole Sand Man thing was going on…but he’d never seen an ocean battle up close before and he sure as hell had never seen anyone conjure a tidal wave before.

Glaive and the other spirit singers on board immediately began to call upon their abilities, and the unseen struggle between themselves and the enemy spirit singers made the air seem heavier to Haden. The wave lost momentum and shrank, but it still reached the lead ships and struck them. Fortunately its power had been lessened by their efforts, so none of the vessels got capsized. A few people got washed overboard and their fellow crew members tossed them lines.

"What did you expect to see, mate?" Questioned Glaive in a distracted tone out the corner of his mouth.

Haden shrugged. “I don’t know…cannon fire, cutlasses, guns. Not a freaking tidal wave.”

The Ulvari agent smirked, his coral gaze flicking to the knight. “Anytime you throw magic or spirit singing into the mix, it’s a whole different ball game.”

Haden was forced to agree with that observation. It was kind of overwhelming, and it made him feel somewhat insignificant. “Doesn’t look like there’s a whole lot I can do to help.”

Glaive’s expression was distracted. “Maybe not right now, but once we get in closer you can employ those wonderful ass-kicking skills of yours.” He tensed, his hands clenching suddenly. “They’re gearing up for another attack. Get ready, all of you!”

Water spouts formed around the Wayfarer fleets, and the team of spirit singers had their hands full just banishing the weather anomalies caused by the enemy. The captain of their vessel pushed the engines full speed ahead to get in closer, and the other ships in their wake did the same. They needed to get in range to start firing and taking out the enemy, if they were to cut down on their own losses. Haden gripped the railing to keep his balance, and he turned when he heard the bellow of a horn coming up portside—along with music. The massive galleon that had been following behind them was now powering forward and overtaking them.

Haden watched with quiet amazement, feeling like he was in the middle of a swashbuckling film set in the Old World. Giant gun turrets emerged from panels in the sides of the ship, along with two in the front. It was an odd contrast to the classic look of the vessel. Haden looked up and he caught a glimpse of the captain through the window in the bridge. The man was hooting like he was heading into a party, rather than a battle. He was shouting into the intercom system and blasting rock music through the speakers.

"Let’s give those miserable fucking bilge rats the ride of their lives, people! Light ‘em up like fireworks and piss on their graves!"

His crew shouted exuberantly in response. It was almost surreal. Then Haden caught sight of a familiar head of curly auburn hair, and he ran over to the other side of the deck to have a better look. “No way… _can’t_ be!”

But it was. Standing on the deck looking out over the water, with her curls spilling out from under a tricorn hat that looked a bit big for her, was Rhiannon Argyle. She was smiling with nervous excitement, standing beside a brunette woman roughly in her thirties. They shouted over the music and noise to each other, the brunette pointing at the fleet they were approaching.

“ _Rhia_!” shouted the knight in bewilderment. She heard him and she looked down to see him staring up at her from the deck of his smaller ship.

"Oh my gods," cried the small redhead. " _Haden_! What are you doing here?”

"Same question back at you!" He climbed onto the railing and grabbed hold of some rigging to keep his balance. "We came to help out with the situation. What the heck are _you_ doing here?”

"I’m a pirate!" She twirled and laughed.

He shook his head, feeling like he must be going insane. “Did I hit my head without realizing it? Rhiannon, this is _dangerous_! You…you can’t be here!”

Of all the people he could have run into here, the perky, gentle-natured makeup artist was the last one he’d have expected. “Hold on,” he called impulsively, getting the wild, desperate idea that he could take a lifeboat and row her off to safety. “I’m getting you out of this mess.”

A hand grabbed his shoulder as he started to try and leap over to the bigger ship and climb up. Haden turned to find his partner looking at him, and the lishere was shaking his head. “You can suss out what she’s doing here later,” advised Glaive. “There’s nowhere safe you can take her now, Haden. She’s a big girl and she’s obviously here by her own choice.”

"B-but…" All Haden could think of was how fragile Rhiannon seemed, and how helpless she’d been when she was trapped in that abusive relationship with her ex.

"I know you want to be the knight in shining armor and come to her rescue," Glaive went on, "but she obviously doesn’t need it, right now. Concentrate on the mission and don’t do anything stupid."

Haden sighed and looked up at the vessel that was steadily passing them by. Rhiannon was waving at them, calling out over the music. “Don’t worry, Haden! I’ll be okay!”

The captain of the ship then came out of the bridge to approach Rhiannon, leaving a blond lashran sire at the helm. The captain was a handsome sort in his late thirties or early forties, with brown collar-length hair that was shot through with a few strands of silver. His beard and mustache were likewise peppered with gray, and he had a nice build. A black tricorn sat on his head, with a brown-gold plume adorning it. Haden couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, due to the shades he wore over his eyes. He came up behind the bouncy young woman and put his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to speak into her ear. She turned around and shook his head, arguing with him about whatever he’d said. He grimaced and spoke back, pointing down. Haden squinted and read his lips.

_"Get below. Now."_

Rhiannon started to argue with him again and he shook his head and said something into her ear that made her blush. Then he pulled her close and kissed her lingeringly. Haden’s brows shot up.

_~Oh. So_ that’s _what she’s doing out here on a ship full of pirates. Man, I’ve gotta hear the story behind this. At least he’s got the sense to put her below deck before they get in range.~_

Whatever he’d said to her evidently convinced her—or maybe the kiss did it. Rhiannon looked back at Haden’s ship once more, gave a final wave and headed for the stairs. Apparently satisfied, the captain returned to the bridge and blew the horn again.

"Wow…Rhia’s dating a pirate," Haden announced. "I didn’t see _that_ coming, did you?” He turned to address his partner, only to find that Glaive had returned to the other side of the ship with the other spirit singers, resuming his efforts to counter the enemy’s attacks and launch some of their own. Haden sighed. Right. Now wasn’t the time to contemplate Rhiannon’s situation. He’d just have to trust that the captain and crew of that galleon would take good care of her and keep her alive.

* * *

 

The second interrogation came with a bit of roughing up, and poor Xellnaise was sporting a shiner when they brought him back to his cell and tossed him in. He hadn’t deliberately been a smart ass. He was being completely honest when he told them that Zevian’s defenses were “shiny”. With impressive turrets of polished steel, the harbor defenses of Ocathia tended to gleam like chrome when the sun fell upon it…and Xellnaise was quite the fan of all things shiny.

The agent that had been questioning him lost his temper and socked him in the eye, knocking him right out of his chair. Then Xellnaise observed aloud that for an Ulvari operative, he was rather short-tempered.

"I thought you fellows were trained to be disciplined" evidently was not the right thing to follow that up with, and he earned himself a kick in the stomach. The frustrated agent sent him away in disgust after that, complaining that they might as well be trying to get a straight answer from a mental patient.

Now there was talk of them bringing in a hired spirit singer to simply tear the information out of his brain. Xellnaise was not looking forward to that one bit. He’d experienced the intrusion of a spirit singer in his mind once before, and it was not an incident to be easily forgotten. The guild lord sighed and pressed a hand against his swollen eye, wincing. He looked over at his companion, lying in a stupor in the cell beside him.

"I fear all this is going to end badly for us, Erishar. At least Whitney is safe…and I pray she remains that way."

He heard a new voice speaking out in the hallway, and something about it was familiar to him. He was still too shaken by his latest interrogation and the threat of having his mind invaded to put his finger on it at first, but then the voice spoke again when the guard said he could go no further.

"I’m terribly sorry young man, but I can’t comply with your wishes. Something important to me is down that way and I won’t be leaving without it."

There was a groan and a thump, and then someone was at the cell door, unlocking it. Xellnaise curled up in the corner of the cell, cringing instinctively as the door swung open. He looked up warily, and his jaw dropped.

"Master Rhinan?"

The white-haired spirit singer smiled at him in that vague, distracted manner of his. “Ah, here you are! I was hoping I had the correct floor.” His black gaze went to Erishar’s crumpled form in the next cell, and his smile faltered. “Oh my.”

"They’ve drugged him," sighed Xellnaise in relief.

"So you said, when you contacted me on the astral." Rhinan helped him up, and then they went into the other cell to see to Erishar. Rhinan knelt before him and he checked his vitals, murmuring softly to him. He did…something…and Erishar came awake with a disoriented cry.

"Gently now," soothed Rhinan. "I’ve cleansed some of the toxins from your body, but we haven’t the time to complete the cycle. Can you stand, Erishar?"

The younger lishere blinked at him, his duel-toned hair falling over his eyes. “I think so,” he slurred, the words coming painfully from a bloodied mouth. Rhinan nodded and helped him up, looking around thoughtfully.

"Gather close, both of you," he said to them. "I can transport us all out of here, but not very far. It’s much more difficult to teleport three people than one, and still maintain accuracy. We shall have to borrow a boat to get off the Chalice, I think."

Of course, “borrow” meant “steal”. Nobody had any objections to that, however. Xellnaise was confused as to why they would need to do so in the first place, however. After the things he’d seen, he supposed he wasn’t very surprised that Rhinan had managed to get into this facility on his own without so much as a scratch, but he’d expected the captain to be with him.

"Isn’t Captain Darshaw and his crew waiting?"

"I’m afraid not," answered Rhinan with a shake of his head. "They are at the Voldus harbor, preparing to engage the Rippers to win back the island—if they haven’t already begun the fight. I came alone, and unfortunately cannot teleport all three of us all the way back there. As I said; it’s an issue of accuracy. We don’t need to end up two miles in the air or at the bottom of the ocean."

"No, that would be unfortunate," agreed Xellnaise. "I would try to do the honors, but I’m afraid I’m in no condition to try."

"It will be fine," reassured the spirit singer. "Perhaps once we’ve gotten off the Chalice—"

His words were cut off by the sound of alarms going off, and he sighed and began to weave the aether. “Never mind. They know there has been a breach, so our first priority is getting out of this facility and out of sight.”

The three of them crowded close as Rhinan wove them all into the spirit realm to transport them to a different location. The authorities burst into the cell just as they all vanished, and much swearing ensued.

* * *

 

Some twenty minutes later, Antyan got confirmation from Rhinan that he had Erishar and Xellnaise. It came in the form of mind-speech, through the link he and Rhinan shared. It was safer than relying on technological communications and risking someone listening in and tracking them down. Now that he knew his descendent and lover were both safe, Antyan was able to put his full attention into the battle raging around him. More Ripper reinforcements were showing up: a thing which he hadn’t anticipated. He reasoned they must come around from the other side of the island, and he’d failed to see them when he was scouting. Possibly because they were tucked away nearby, awaiting further instruction. They might have even come from Azirus while the Wayfarers were on their way to Voldus.

Wherever they’d come from, there were enough of them to boost their numbers and level the playing field a bit more. Additionally, some of the reinforcement ships had Bargel sorcerers on board, and magical attacks came raining down along with the weapons fire and the spirit singing attacks. The Cyclone had to back off after taking heavy damage from ion cannons, and while Vurkanan was not the only spell caster in the Wayfarer fleet, the magical bombardment was coming too fast for any of them to strengthen shields. Fireballs, bolts of lightning, water spouts and conjured fog made the site of the battle a hellish mess, and they were losing ships fast.

Beside the Black Cat, the Harpy was holding her own and Aurora had already taken down two enemy vessels. There came a complication, however, when a large battleship bore down on her, unseen until it was right on top of her, thanks to the thick fog blanketing the area. She did her best to turn and avoid a collision, but it was coming on too fast. She yelled and clung to the wheel as the impact jarred her ship, and Vurkanan fell on his face in mid-cast. The fireball that he’d been in the middle of conjuring appeared between him and the deck just before he fell, and his clothing caught fire.

"Vurk!" Aurora left off the wheel and went charging out on the deck, screaming at her crew to bring water as she ripped her jacket off and covered him with it, trying to smother the flames. Someone came running up with a bucket and she got drenched right along with her friend as they dumped it on the two of them.

"Vurk…just be still, okay?" She cradled him as he writhed in pain, his skin blistered and burned where the fire had burnt through his clothes. "Ah, fuck! Medic! We need a bloody medic over here!"

The crew of the enemy ship began to board hers, and her crew became embattled trying to fight them off. Aurora drew her gun and fired at one of the Rippers when she saw him charging at her, and she hovered protectively over Vurkanan, trying to see to his wounds and defend him at the same time. The Cat was beginning to turn, having seen that they’d been boarded.

"Hang on, Vurkanan," urged Aurora. "Help’s on the—"

There was another fantastic crash as an even bigger ship suddenly slammed into the one that had broad-sided hers, and Aurora looked up with wide eyes to see the Sea Lion plowing into the enemy vessel.

"Hell yeah! Bumper cars!" shouted Captain Hunter’s voice over his ship’s speaker systems. "Ours is bigger than yours, bitches!"

The crew of the Sea Lion tossed grapplers out and proceeded to board Aurora’s ship to join the fray, while Tristan fired his massive turrets point-blank into the Ripper vessel. There was an explosion somewhere below the doomed ship’s deck as the assault blew up something flammable inside—possibly a fuel tank. Captain Hunter was cackling like loon as he raced out of the bridge and onto his deck, calling out to Aurora in greeting.

"Hey baby, how’s _that_ for an entrance?”

Her relief at the unexpected and timely assistance was clouded with worry for Vurkanan. “It’s a fine entrance, you crazy sea dog…but my wizard fried himself! Got a medic on board? I can’t find mine!”

"Sure do. Hold up and we’ll get him taken care of." He whistled at the crew still on board his ship and he ordered them to get a stretcher and bring Vurkanan aboard. Aurora stroked Vurkanan’s singed hair and kept a wary eye out in case any of the embattled Rippers got too close for comfort.

* * *

 

Antyan drove his sword through another Ripper, leaving Javel to pilot the ship while he joined the effort to clear the enemy off the Swordfish. He silently commanded Tenja to attack another, and the man screamed as the owl mauled his face with her sharp talons, before flapping away to find another target. He left her to it, trusting her to take care of herself. He spotted Aurora boarding the Sea Lion on the other side of the ship, and he saw the bundled form of Vurkanan being carefully hoisted up on a stretcher. Quickening his pace, the sire reached the end of the deck and he climbed up after Aurora on the ladder they’d tossed down for her.

"What happened?" he demanded once he’d joined them on the Sea Lion’s deck.

"Bastards rammed us before I could see ‘em coming," explained Aurora a little breathlessly. "Knocked Vurk off balance and he fell on his own fireball. I don’t even know if the crazy shits’ meant to ram us like that. They probably couldn’t see us any better than we could see them."

"Looks like the fog’s clearing up now, at least," Tristan observed. He watched his crew carry Vurkanan inside, to see to his injuries below deck. "Those spirit singers that tagged along are coming in handy."

"This is all going down the toilet," groused Aurora. "We’re starting to lose ground."

"Nah, the party’s just started," Captain Hunter argued. "Don’t worry, Star. We’ll take this harbor."

Antyan glanced over the side of the ship towards the figurehead—which was impaling the Ripper vessel it had crashed into. “You won’t be taking much of anything if you don’t break away from that ship soon. The fire is spreading.” He pointed, and Tristan put one hand on his hat to keep it on his head as he went to the railing and leaned over for a look.

"Yup, that could be a problem. I’ll go take care of that now. We’ll get it away from Star’s ship, too."

While he rushed off to give orders to his crew and disengage from the Ripper ship, Aurora went below deck to see how Vurkanan was doing and Antyan returned to the Swordfish to help finish off the invaders on it. Once he and his crew successfully “towed” the flaming Ripper ship safely away from the Swordfish and detached the Sea Lion from it, Captain Hunter joined Antyan and fought by his side.

"Oh, by the way," Tristan grunted after kicking a Ripper overboard before the man could get off a shot at him, "Someone’s been looking for you, and you’re gonna shit when they make it here, Darshaw."

"Oh?" Antyan fired another shot and took down a fleeing enemy. He cast an interested look at his human companion, seemingly only mildly curious but feeling a surge of excitement, inside.

"Uh-huh. I’m kind of surprised they haven’t made it yet, but they had some work to do on their ship last time I saw ‘em, so I guess they’re just running later than expected."

Antyan parted his lips to respond, hardly daring to hope. “Would these mystery people happen to…be…” he trailed off, eyes widening as the remaining fog cleared and the huge form of a lashran galleon materialized on the surface of the water to the west, off in the distance. It immediately began to fire on the enemy fleet, closing in rapidly like some leviathan from the deep.

There was no mistaking that vessel; not even after all this time. Antyan began to smile. Even one as stoic as he couldn’t contain the expression completely. One of Aurora’s crew made a bewildered explanation as he spotted the ship as well.

"What the hell is _that_?”

Antyan didn’t take his eyes off of the approaching ship. “It’s the Wave Crasher.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	10. Chapter 9

* * *

"This is bullshit."

Johnny glanced at the frustrated guild lord. “Boss?”

Zevian’s mouth quirked briefly, before he bared his teeth at the monitors. “Those airborne units are from the Chalice.”

Johnny looked at the screens as well, and he shrugged. “Maybe they were stolen. No telling, with the Rippers.”

Zevian turned his head to look at him, the braids woven into his gold-brown ponytail slapping the side of his face with the motion. “Yeah? You think they could get through Chalice harbor defenses along with the airport security to steal that shit? They’d have made a move a long time ago on the center island if they had the means to do that.”

"I dunno, boss." The human shrugged helplessly. "I just don’t get why they’d send their air forces in with a Ripper sea fleet to attack us. They’ve made it no secret they hate humans…and pirates…and guilds, for that matter. It doesn’t make any sense, t’ me."

Zevian stared at the screens, and he noticed that the aerial forces weren’t firing at his defenses around the harbor. They seemed to be more interested in moving on inland—toward his estate. He recalled how the Chalice Ulvari had “offered” to take him with them when they took Xellnaise. He scratched his chin and frowned. “What’s their angle?”

Zevian turned to address Idrisar. “Why would they—”

The lifebearer was no longer behind him. Zevian looked around, then at his shark. “Hey Johnny, did you see where that Ulvari cat went?”

The human looked a bit startled, and he too cast a confused glance around. “He was right there behind you a minute ago, man.”

For a moment, both men looked this way and that in the comical manner of two people expecting a spider to jump out at them from nowhere. Zevian finally chuckled and shrugged, giving up. He’d known Idrisar long enough that the agent’s ability to vanish on a whim really shouldn’t surprise him, anymore. “Ah, forget it. He’s around.”

"So what do you want to do about the Chalice choppers, boss?"

Zevian’s brows furrowed as he looked at the monitors again, his aqua gaze calculating. “Have our people try and contact them. It’s pretty fucking obvious why the Rippers are here, but since those birds aren’t joining in their attack…eh…” He shrugged. “Might as well try to see what they want. We’ve got missiles between here and there if they decide to stir shit.”

Johnny nodded. “Right.”

He got on the line to convey Zevian’s orders, and the guild lord walked out of the control room to try and locate his Ulvari companion. He moved through his estate, checking places he thought Idrisar might have gone to. First he looked in the kitchen, thinking he might have gone in there for refreshment. Having no luck with that, he checked the bathrooms—knocking on those that were locked, of course. He only found one occupied and it was being used by one of his house guards, so he moved on to the second level.

"Now you’re starting to freak me out a little, sexy," muttered the guild lord under his breath.

He started down the hall to his master bedroom suite, resisting the urge to call out to his lover. He pushed the door open to find Idrisar on the other side, changed into his form-fitting combat gear and in the middle of strapping his firearms to his thighs. Zevian pulled up short and blinked, unable to stop his eyes from roving over the younger lashran with admiration. Idrisar glanced up, shook his dark bangs out of his eyes and checked his Mokalor.

"I’m ready," he stated. He’d removed his glasses and Zevian assumed he’d put in contact lenses.

"Ready for what? Something you know that I don’t?"

Idrisar smirked without humor and went to his bag of hurt-bringing, as Zevian liked to call it. It was sitting on one of the chairs against the corner of the room, and he procured a container of throwing darts, along with a pair of knives. The former he attached to his belt, and the latter he strapped to his thighs. “It doesn’t take confirmation from my organization for me to expect an attack, Zevian. I suggest you fully arm yourself, as well.”

The guild lord stared at him, admiring him for his tactical reasoning, his calm and his resolve. “Have I told you that I love you?”

Idrisar glanced at him and smiled softly. “Not today, before now.”

* * *

 

Aboard the Sea Lion, Aurora reluctantly left Vurkanan’s side and trusted Captain Hunter’s medic to take care of him. There was nothing more that she could do for him, save hold his hand. A healing trance had been medically induced and the doctor began to clean and wrap his burns to help the healing along. She went out on the main deck with Tristan, intending to go back to her ship and take over piloting it again. It was then that she saw the lashran designed ship from her deepest memories, and she stood stunned beside the human captain as she stared at it.

Tristan hadn’t fibbed to her below deck, and it wasn’t just some other ship coincidentally bearing the same name from the past. There was no mistaking the Wave Crasher as it closed in on the fleet, cutting through the water smoothly.

"Isn’t it amazing?" Tristan asked with a smile. "I mean there are plenty of sweet ships out there, but that one beats them all."

Aurora didn’t answer. Her gaze was sweeping over the vessel’s cobalt, aqua and sky-blue form, and her eyes glistened with moisture. She spotted the figure of Lythallendar moving across the quarter deck, and she murmured something that made Tristan blink.

"Daddy…"

Not comprehending at first, Tristan acted on assumption. “Uh, I get that you’re moved, baby, and I know ships turn you on, but like you said: we’re in the middle of a war. If you want to call me ‘Daddy’ next time we’re together though, I guess I can—”

“ _Daaadddy!_ " screamed the piratess in a raw, emotion-laden voice, startling Tristan to the point of jumping a little. Without any further conversation with him, the lashran woman took a running leap off the deck. She heard Captain Hunter swear and yell for his crew to toss a lifeline as she hit the water with a splash. She didn’t hesitate. She swam strongly toward the Wave Crasher, her entire being filled with elation. It wasn’t possible for them to be here, and yet, they were.

Up on the deck, Lythallendar heard her calling out for him and he sprinted over to the starboard bough, yelling for his crew. “Get my daughter _out_ of there!”

They hastened to toss a line over for Aurora to grab, and Tsabrak joined Lythas’ side as they pulled her up. Coughing after having inadvertently swallowed some water while yelling for her father, Aurora stared at him in shocked amazement. Lythas stared back, his emerald gaze just as bewildered and elated as hers—and then he was embracing her tightly.

"Aurora," he choked. "My darling Aurora…I thought never to see you again!"

Tsabrak joined the embrace, laughing with elation. “I knew it,” he exclaimed. “I knew that if any of our family survived, you’d be one of ‘em, lass.”

Too emotional to speak, Aurora could only nod and squeeze them both tighter. The battle raged on around them but the three of them might as well have been alone, for all the attention they paid to it. She didn’t know how or why, but her father and his mate were alive and well…and that was all that mattered to her right now.

* * *

 

Antyan would have loved to join his sister on the Wave Crasher for his own reunion with their parents, but the pace of the battle had picked up and he had no choice but to stay focused. The presence of the Wave Crasher renewed his hope and confidence, and it fought alongside the Black Cat, the Harpy and the Sea Lion as the fleet advanced further into the harbor. Aurora evidently decided to stay aboard the Wave Crasher and leave her second mate in charge of the Harpy. With his owl perched on his shoulder once more, he cut loose on the enemy forces, blasting into their ranks with bombardments of cannon fire. The glowing white blasts from the Wave Crasher’s ionic cannons joined the shots, missiles and artillery fire from the other ships, cutting through the Ripper fleet without mercy.

A smirk adorned Antyan’s lips, and he sent a mental message to his lover.

_~”Rhinan, the help that you sent for has arrived. I should never have doubted.”~_

The spirit singer’s response was laced with exuberance. _~”No, you should not have, but it surely gladdens my heart to know they received the message and found you! Fight well and return to me unharmed, Antyan. If you should require my assistance, you need only ask.”~_

Antyan nodded and ended the spiritual communication. Of course he could send for Rhinan, but now he doubted there was a need to. With the added reinforcements—including the spirit singers—he was confident that they could take this harbor now without putting Rhinan in the position of having to take life.

* * *

 

"Fire again!" shouted Aurora when the energy levels of the cannons had risen enough for another round. The Sea Lion came up beside the Wave Crasher, and Tristan was out on the deck, leaving his first mate to pilot the ship temporarily. As his galleon flanked the lashran ship, Tristan stood up on the railing and called out to Aurora. He’d cut off the rock music he’d been playing during the first advance, so she could hear him clearly over the distance.

"You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do, missy!"

Too happy to be annoyed by his assumption that she owed him any explanation at all, the piratess cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted back at him with a grin. “Hunter, the things you _don’t_ know about me could fill a book! Never you mind that now, just keep Vurkanan safe and kick some ass!”

He shrugged and gave her a salute. “That, I can do.”

Tsabrak came up beside her, his golden eyes narrowed against the sunlight that had broken through the cloud cover. “So you know Captain Hunter. Friend of yours, or something more?”

She held a thumb and finger slightly apart. “A wee bit more. It’s casual, though. We both have other lust interests.”

The sire chuckled and stroked his chin, watching Tristan moving across his deck, calling out orders to his crew. “Seems like a nice fellow. Are you due for a lover’s spat, do you think?”

She considered the question, but not because she thought she was in for an argument when this was all over. She and Tristan never fought, but he was probably going to be asking her a ton of questions when he got the opportunity. He knew her as Star and she had never told him of her origins. It must have shocked the shit out of him to hear her call Lythallendar “Daddy” and jump ship to be with him. She also considered the small redheaded woman she’d briefly met below on the forecastle deck, when they’d brought Vurkanan in to be treated for his injuries. She thought of the way Rhiannon had looked at Tristan, and the veiled jealousy in her eyes when it became apparent that Aurora and the captain were more than just friends.

"You know, I don’t think I’ll be calling him ‘lover’ after today," she finally answered.

Tsabrak’s brows went up, and he put an arm around her. “That bad, eh?”

She smirked and shook her head, her stormy gaze following the handsome human pirate’s movements. “Not at all. I just have a set of my own morals, when it comes to lust and love. Sex for fun is all well and good, but I’ll not be the one to break another woman’s heart. Time to release this buck back into the wild.”

She turned her head and kissed her adopted sire on the cheek. “Oh, and if you didn’t know already, Vurkanan’s alive, too. I’d have told you earlier but I was so caught up in the shock of seeing you again, it slipped my mind.”

Tsabrak’s eyes lit up. “Oh is he, now? Where might he be, then?”

She grimaced. “On board the Sea Lion, getting seen to by a medic. He had an accident with one of his spells and he got pretty singed. The doc says he’s going to recover, but he’ll be trancing for a few days.”

"Then as soon as this is over, I’ll want him transported to our ship so that my medic can see to him," said the sire. "Not that I don’t trust your friend’s doctor, but lashran medicine is a bit different from human medicine."

She nodded. “And he’s your brother. I can’t see Tristan or his crew being offended.”

Tsabrak kissed her on the cheek and gave her another squeeze. “We’ll talk more when this is over with. I know you’ve got questions, and Lythas and I have more than a few ourselves. I’d better get back on the bridge to help your father, now.”

"Right," she agreed. "I’ll go down to the engine room and see how you’re doing for fuel."

* * *

 

It was a grueling battle, but in the end, they won out. The spirit singers, Glaive and Haden practically took the harbor on their own, overpowering the land defenders and signaling to the fleet when all enemy forces were subdued or killed. They suffered losses same as the enemy, but most of the remaining Wayfarer ships were still sea worthy. Captain Charles had to bring the Cyclone into the ship yard for repairs, seeing as it took more damage than most of the other surviving vessels. The Harpy took a fair amount of damage as well—mostly from being rammed by the big Ripper vessel.

As soon as his boots touched the dock, Antyan hurried over to the Wave Crasher that had moored on the other side. He stared at his parents as they came down the boarding ramp to meet up with him, and just like Aurora, he took a moment to drink in the sight of them before being swept up in a group embrace. Laughing happily, Aurora joined the pile. Antyan said nothing, nor did he cry like his father and sister were doing. He did tremble with emotion, however, and he could find no words to express his gratitude at seeing them alive again.

"What happened?" he finally asked when he felt he could speak. The sun had gone down, but the sky was dimly lit by the fires from sinking ships. Teams of Wayfarers were busily dousing the fires on the harbor, saving what structures they could from being burnt down. The glow reflected on four sets of lashran eyes as the reunited family spoke. "We believed you were lost at sea…killed."

"Lost at sea, yes," confirmed Lythallendar with a nod, his long, black locks hanging down his back in a ponytail. "Not killed, though. Tsabrak and I escaped the Wave Crasher as she began to sink, and we barely survived. We were fortunate enough to make it to a sea cave and rest there."

"Unfortunately, we didn’t come back out of it," explained Tsabrak, adding his input to his mate’s. "Both of us got stuck in a coma, we fell so deep into our healing trance. Without anyone to wake us up, we remained in a stasis for all that time. I came too after a good long while, and I woke Lythallendar up."

"We had no idea how much time had passed," added Lythas, his pale face troubled with the memory of it. "We were completely disoriented. I believed we were still in our time period when we first awoke, but then when Tsabrak regained enough strength to teleport us to land, we’d found the world around us completely changed."

"Traffic lights, telephones, television…" Tsabrak shook his head with lingering bafflement. "Lythas here at least had a basic understanding of it all and could work it out, but the first time I saw a car I came close to shitting myself."

"I can imagine," said Aurora dryly. "Vurk and I went into stasis for a while too, after you two vanished. Some of those things were around already when we went down, but it took me a good while to figure out how to use a cell phone. So how did you get the Wave Crasher back?"

Tsabrak shrugged. “Well, once we recovered from our shock and got our bearings, we went to Valkyrie Falls in the hopes of finding someone we knew. Didn’t expect our home to still be there, but it was. It seems the city council declared it and a few others as historical buildings, so it was still standing and restored good as new. We couldn’t reclaim it without fighting a legal battle, but I managed to sneak in at night and lo and behold, our stash from back in the day was still there. They never did find the secret compartment under the floor.”

"So we took that with us and we hired a barge and a crew to help us bring the Wave Crasher back up from where it had sunk," Lythallendar finished. "After that, we hired a new crew to restore her, so that we could begin the search for friends and family."

"You made it difficult for us," accused Tsabrak. "What with everyone going under aliases and Antyan somehow masking himself from magical tracking! I thought we would _never_ find any of you alive.”

"I had no intention of being found by my enemies," excused Antyan. "Had I known my parents were alive and searching for me, it would have been a different matter."

Tsabrak looked his oldest son over curiously. “You’ve changed. Not on the surface, mind you, but there’s something beneath that I can’t quite figure out.”

"He can spirit sing now," offered Aurora. "At least a little bit. My guess is Rhinan tutored him and helped him develop it."

"Ah, it makes sense!" Tsabrak snapped his fingers. "It was Lord Rhinan that contacted us after all. If it weren’t for him, we’d have been searching for years longer."

Lythallendar nodded. “He came to Tsabrak in the astral and he did something that made our compass work again, so that we had a heading to come and find you.”

"Told us you were heading into a big fracas, and our help was needed," concluded Tsabrak. "We still had some repairs to do on the ship, but we headed out as soon as she was ready to sail. When we met Captain Hunter and he told us you’d basically become the pirate king of the Wayfarers, I must have gotten an interesting look on my face. He worked out the family connection before I could even mention it."

Aurora snorted. “That surprises me. The big lug’s usually so flaky.”

"Hey, my ears are ringing!" Tristan Hunter had docked his ship and he was approaching them with his little girlfriend when he overheard Aurora’s statement. He had an arm around Rhiannon’s waist, and he smiled and tipped his hat in greeting when they stopped before the lashran family. "Good fight, guys. So, Star…these are your folks, too? I knew about the Admiral, but not you."

She nodded and grinned. “Aye, this is my father and his mate, Tsabrak. I had a human sire, though. His name was Coren.”

Tristan gave a start. “Coren? As in Coren Darshaw?”

She nodded. “One and the same.”

"Wow…I just…wow!" He looked at them all with open amazement. "That blows my mind."

Rhiannon smiled up at him. “You really didn’t know she was related to them? Or Admiral Darshaw?”

Tristan shrugged. “I had no clue. They never told me a thing.”

"That’s all right," quipped Aurora. "You should be used to being clueless by now, Hunter."

"Ouch." He pretended to wince at the barb, but he grinned. He stuck his hand out for Tsabrak to shake, then Lythas. "Well anyways, good seeing you again. Glad you could make it to the fight. You kicked lots of Ripper ass out there and helped turn the tide quick."

"Our pleasure," offered Lythas politely.

"Happy to oblige," agreed Tsabrak. "Now Captain Hunter, I hear you’ve got an injured lifebearer named Vurkanan on board your ship."

Tristan nodded. “Aurora’s wizard, right? I just checked on him and he’s still out of it, but the doctor says he’s healing up good. Don’t tell me he’s related to you all, too?”

"Only to myself and to Antyan," explained Tsabrak. "He’s my brother. I’d like to see him and possibly have him transported to our ship if it’s safe enough to move him, if you don’t mind."

"Well sure! You’re family, so who am I to say no? Come on, I’ll take you to him."

"Thank you very much," answered Lythas, and they all followed the human pirate to his impressive galleon.

* * *

 

While the Wayfarers and their allies were busy clearing out Voldus of Rippers, Oricus was holding well against the would-be invaders. So far, none of the Rippers had managed to make landfall and Zevian sent out the order for the harbor defenses to keep firing ruthlessly at them, even if they turned away to retreat. Unfortunately, he had a team of air units steadily moving inland toward his home. He couldn’t leave and go to the airport to take a private plane out, seeing as all airports were currently shut down. Even if that option was still open to him, he had nowhere he could go on Zarn, except maybe Voldus.

Zevian got on the phone with his security, while Idrisar began to make rounds inspecting the property’s fortifications. “Those cats are going to land right on our lawn,” said the guild lord to Johnny. “Don’t start shooting until they make a hostile move, though. Much as I can’t stand those bureaucrats from the Chalice, we don’t want to be the ones to start anything. Might give them an excuse to try and move in and take over our island.”

"Got it boss," agreed Johnny. "But uh…what if they start shooting first?"

Zevian rolled his eyes. “Then you start shooting right back. Since they weren’t firing on our harbor along with the Rippers, we’ve got to assume they’re coming to negotiate or something. Until you know otherwise, let’s try to be civil.”

"Will do. Dunno what they’d have to negotiate about, though."

Zevian shrugged. “Maybe they want to cut a deal about the defense of Oricus. Maybe they’re trying to put me under arrest like they did Quartz, who knows? We’ll find out soon enough. Keep alert.”

Zevian ended the call, and Idrisar returned to his study with a grim expression on his youthful face. Zevian raised his brows expectantly. “What’s that look about?”

Idrisar adjusted the headset he wore for communications, and he turned the volume down. “I just got word from Talith. It seems Xellnaise Quartz and his companion escaped the Chalice with a ‘rogue spirit singer’. The description matched that man Rhinan who came here the other day to assist Erishar.”

"Oh yeah?" Zevian smirked. "So he busted them out of jail, eh? How is that a bad thing?"

"Because it led to their decision to come and take you into custody," answered the Ulvari. "Just as I feared. They aren’t coming to assist in the defense of your island, Zevian. They are coming for _you_.”

The guild lord sighed. “Of course. Let me guess; word is they’re coming to put me under arrest for my own ‘protection’.”

Idrisar lowered his bright gaze and nodded. “That’s what the Chalice Ulvari reported. Considering you are the last guild lord on these islands, my guess is that they intend to try and convince you to relinquish control of Oricus to them, so that they might put it under martial law and take over.”

"Wouldn’t doubt it," grunted Zevian. He began to check his weapons. "Well, they’re going to have a fight on their hands. I’m not giving up Oricus to _anyone_ , let alone those assholes on the Chalice.”

"I would expect no less of you," murmured Idrisar. "I’ve sent word out to a couple of agents that came and assisted with the liberation of Voldus. I doubt they’ll make it here in time to help us with this situation, but they might. You may recall agents Glaive and Wolfe from my department?"

Zevian nodded. “Yeah, I remember them. Glaive’s a spirit singer, right?”

Idrisar nodded.

"Then they ought to make it here in—"

"Boss! A couple of guys just appeared on the lawn," interrupted Vylden, sticking his head through the door. "They say they’re agents and they work with Blackbird."

Zevian blinked in surprise, as did Idrisar. “Wow, they got here even faster than I thought,” muttered the guild lord. “Show ‘em in, Vylden. We know these guys.”

* * *

 

"Good to see you again," greeted Haden with a smile as he shook hands with Zevian. His partner took his place a moment later, coral-colored eyes regarding the guild lord thoughtfully.

"It seems trouble’s coming to knock on your door, mate."

Zevian shook the lishere’s hand and nodded in agreement. “Guess I’m lucky you two happened to be on the islands. I’m guessing this time they don’t want to just offer me protection.”

"Nah, that lie’s used up," answered Haden. He glanced at the computer screen, which relayed the security camera in several open windows. "Hmm, they’re closing in fast. So, what’s the plan, Agent Blackbird? Do we just start swinging the minute they land or what?"

"Given the information I was presented with, I think the time for talk is over with," answered Idrisar. "We are to subdue and detain the interlopers. Try not to kill unless necessary. They can explain themselves after we’ve got them in our custody, and we will send them on their way when they agree to cease any and all hostilities against Saber and the other guild lords."

"Not to be pedantic," Glaive pointed out, "but there _are_ no other guild lords, sir. Quartz lost his island and that other bloke on Voldus got the business end of a knife.”

"Why do you people have to keep reminding me?" grumbled Zevian. "And Quartz is still alive. Once things settle down on Voldus, a new guild lord will rise up to take over. If we can liberate Azirus, Quartz can take over there again."

"I’m not so certain Mr. Quartz has the heart for resuming his former position," reasoned Idrisar. "What he seems to desire the most is peace, and a safe environment to raise his adopted child in. Being a guild lord offers none of that."

"Well, whether he wants it or not, he’s got a responsibility." Zevian clicked off the safety on his guns before holstering them again. "Even if he doesn’t go back to being the guild lord in those parts, he still has to pick a shark to take over for him. That’s how we roll."

"Let’s just concentrate on defending _your_ island, before we get into a debate about the others.” Idrisar paused at the approaching sound of helicopters. “They’re almost here. Glaive, Wolfe, I want the two of you stationed on either side of the manor; one at the front entryway and one at the back. I’ll stay here with Saber.”

Glaive nodded and deftly flipped a throwing knife in his hand, before sheathing it and nudging his partner. “Right. Time to rock.”

Haden combed gloved fingers through his dark, tumbled hair and nodded, before checking his firearms. “Here we go again.”

* * *

 

Tsabrak winced when he saw the damage that his brother had taken from the fireball. He stroked Vurkanan’s pale hair and he glanced up at Tristan. “He’ll probably be out for a couple of days with this. Do you happen to have a stretcher we could use to transport him to our ship?”

Tristan nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll have my crew bring it to you right away.”

He left them alone with Vurkanan to go and fetch the stretcher. Lythallendar knelt beside his spouse and gazed down at the stricken sorcerer. “His injuries are grave, but he is alive.”

Tsabrak nodded, a swift spasm of emotion contorting his bronzed features for a moment. “If only we’d gotten here sooner.”

"Don’t talk like that," demanded Aurora. "You showed up right in the nick of time, and now all that’s left is the cleanup. Once we get all the rats out of the city, they can start on repairs and we can all move on from there. Vurk will recover with a few day’s rest, and when he wakes up, he’ll be pleased as piss to see you both."

Lythas winced a little at her use of language, but he did not chastise her. “I would like to find out who else is still with us, whenever we have the time to discuss it. Tsabrak and I have not had the opportunity to seek out other family members yet.”

Aurora’s expression became somber. “Of course, Daddy. It’s going to be a depressing conversation, mind you.”

Lythallendar closed his eyes briefly and nodded. “I am aware. I’ve been bracing myself for this, ever since we awoke.”

"One thing at a time," Tsabrak suggested. "We can mourn our losses after we’ve finished out task. Talking about it now will only distract us."

Aurora sighed and nodded in concurrence. This was the part of their reunion that she was not looking forward to. They already knew about Lyre because he passed before they got lost at sea, and Valamir succumbed to the injuries he’d sustained in a conflict between Rhuidhim and Nandar. The others, however…those losses were unknown to them. She patted Vurkanan’s hand and hoped her father would be able to cope with it, when he found out whom else they’d lost over the years.

* * *

 

The Chalice operatives began to drop from the helicopters on wires, and the voice of Director Falgas spoke over the communication network. “Guild lord Saber, tell your people to stand down. We’ve come to bring you back to the Chalice with us until this conflict ends, for your own safety.”

Zevian rolled his eyes toward Idrisar. “Looks like you called it, gorgeous.” He turned on his headset and answered the demand, speaking into the mic. “Thanks but no thanks. We’ve got everything under control here, so why don’t you get your people right back onto those birds and head back to the Chalice?”

"I’m afraid I can’t comply with that," answered Falgas. "I have my orders, Mr. Saber. This has gone beyond a simple guild conflict and it’s time for it to be brought back under control. We _will_ use force, if necessary.”

This time Idrisar tuned in and spoke before Zevian could. “This is Agent Blackbird, Director. You are in violation of Zarnian treaty laws and I would advise you to belay those orders and reconsider your actions. What you are attempting to do is kidnapping. Should you unlawfully seize Mr. Saber, I’ll have no choice but to get other Ulvari authorities involved.”

"I understand your position, Agent Blackbird, but you have no authority here. If Mr. Saber does not come peacefully, we have no choice. You have been warned."

Idrisar clenched his jaw as the other agent ended the communication. Gunfire could be heard going off outside, and he heard Agent Wolfe yelling instructions to some of the guards. He looked at Zevian as someone yelled something about a grenade. There was a dull explosion somewhere outside, and the walls and windows shook and rattled.

"Are they fucking _serious_?” Yelled Zevian as he and Idrisar hit the floor together.

"They’ll do their best to breach the perimeter," predicted the Ulvari, "and once they do, they’ll attempt to take you alive. It’s a good thing your windows are bulletproof, Zevian."

The guild lord drew his guns and got up. “Well, I’m not sitting here waiting for them to come to me.”

"Zevian, you need to stay here," protested Idrisar. "If you go out there, you’ll be opening yourself up as a target!"

"I already _am_ a target, baby.” Zevian started for the door, and he paused when Idrisar nimbly intercepted him and blocked his path. “Id, I’m not gonna just sit here while my people defend my house. That’s not the way I do things and you know it.”

Idrisar compressed his lips and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Then if you’re determined to deliver yourself into their hands, I’m coming with you.”

Zevian smirked and lowered his mouth to the agent’s for a quick kiss. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

"I’ve got five coming up around the back," Glaive announced through the headset he wore. "How are things looking on your side, partner?"

"Oh, they’re coming out of the woodwork," grunted Haden in response. There was the sound of a ruckus and a groan as someone got a taste of a boot or fist. "And these guys are tough," finished Haden. "Be careful, back there!"

"As if I even know the meaning of the word," answered Glaive with a reckless little smile.

With that said, he leaped down from the roof and he landed on the shoulders of one of the agents attempting to line the windows with an explosive gel. He clamped his thighs tightly around the sire’s neck and he flipped backwards, hanging upside down while his victim spun in place trying to dislodge him. He began firing on the other four Ulvari, aiming to wound. Two of them deftly tumbled out of the way but he got one in the shin and the other in the thigh. As they dropped, Glaive released his hold on the man he was “riding” and did a hand-spring to get back to his feet. He called upon his spirit singing abilities and hit one of the agents that had escaped his gunfire with concussive, invisible force, knocking him into his companion. He drew his throwing knives and spun with a dancer’s grace as they started to try and return fire. One knife hit the target in the wrist, forcing him to drop his weapons. The other was deflected and Glaive hissed as a bullet grazed his shoulder.

Two more enemy agents came around the corner and the lishere briefly wondered if he’d made a mistake by taking this position alone. One of Zevian’s men evidently saw the struggle, and he came through the back door to begin firing on the encroachers.

"Agent Glaive, duck!"

Glaive didn’t argue with the man. He hit the ground and he attempted to lull the enemies’ spirit to sleep. Unfortunately, they were shielded from such influence—which didn’t really surprise him considering that they probably already knew that Saber himself was a spirit singer.

"Ah well, then we’ll do this the hard way," he muttered. None of the gangster’s bullets were hitting. The man that Glaive had initially landed on was recovering, and he was dodging their bullets and firing back. The two newcomers were evidently focused on Glaive, approaching him at a sprint. Glaive leaped into the air and flipped straight over one of them, driving the heel of his boot into the face of his slower companion. He turned and gave the other one his elbow as the agent turned around to confront him. He felt a stab of pain in his side and he gagged, glancing down to see the hilt of a knife sticking out from between his ribs. One of the injured ones had thrown it while he was occupied.

He heard yelling, and then three more of Zevian’s house guards came out to assist. Glaive forced his opponents off of him with a gust of wind, and he grabbed the hilt of the knife sticking out of him to keep it from jiggling around. His first instinct was to pull it out, but his common sense won out. He needed to get out of the fight.

"Haden, I’ve taken a knife," he said over the frequency. "I’m out, for now."

"Shit!" The rare expletive came through as Haden got his message. "Go inside and lay down somewhere, Glaive. I’ll meet you in there and patch you up. Whoa…what the heck? Uh, what are _you two_ doing out here? I thought the plan was to stay holed up in the study while we take care of this!”

Glaive began to limp towards the door as he listened to his partner’s conversation. “What’s going on, mate?”

"Saber and Blackbird," explained Haden. They’re…well, I guess they’re joining the fight."

"It’s his choice," answered Glaive. "And now that I’m down, that might not be a bad thing."

The guards covered him as he went into the house, shutting the door behind him. Glaive swallowed back nausea as he stumbled through the expansive home and into one of the downstairs guest rooms. He collapsed on the bed just as his partner came charging in, yelling his name. “In here,” called the lishere, fighting back dizziness.

Haden made haste to the bedroom and he frowned at the sight of the knife handle embedded in his partner’s side. “Oh, man…okay, don’t panic. Just take it easy and roll onto your uninjured side, okay?”

Haden approached and he unzipped the first aid pack he carried on him as Glaive obeyed his request with effort. The knight took a deep breath, his worried gray eyes meeting Glaive’s. “Okay, I’m going to pull this free real quick, and then I’ll clean it and get it patched up. You probably need to go into a healing trance right away, babe.”

Glaive nodded and shut his eyes. “I will…after we’ve repelled these cunts.”

Haden groaned. “No, listen to me…you’re in _no_ condition to fight anymore, got it? You trance out right away and I’ll take care of the rest.”

The Ulvari managed a dry smirk. “Mother hen.”

"When it comes to my partner, that’s right," agreed Haden without apology. "Okay, ready? One…two… _three_!”

Glaive couldn’t help but flinch and groan as the knife was pulled out of him abruptly. Blood spurted and Haden immediately pulled Glaive’s shirt up and put pressure on the wound with some gauze from his pack. He murmured soothingly to his partner as he held it there for a while, his voice drowned out by the sounds of the conflict going on outside.

"At least they haven’t made it into the house yet," muttered Haden, digging through the med pack to find the cauterizing powder. "But Saber’s crazy! Him and Blackbird just went charging outside together! What good did it do for us to come here and help if he’s just going to end up getting nabbed?"

"Have a little faith," coughed Glaive tiredly. "Saber’s no pushover in a fight, and he’s with Blackbird. I’m not even sure _I_ could take Idrisar in a fight.”

"Good point, I guess." Haden pulled the gauze away to sprinkle some of the powder into the wound, and he apologized when Glaive made a noise of pain. "Easy. We’re almost through. See, I _told_ you to be careful. You never listen to me.”

Glaive chuckled painfully. “Will you put me in the corner when I wake up, as punishment for being naughty?”

"Don’t tempt me." Haden bound the wound carefully and then he stroked Glaive’s arm. "All right, all done. As soon as this is over, I’m calling for a medic to come and look at you…or better yet, we’ll take you to the hospital."

"Didn’t…hit anything vital," sighed Glaive with confidence. The spirit voices would have warned him, if it were otherwise.

"Still, it was a nasty hit. I’m not taking any chances." Haden bent over him to kiss him on the temple. "Just sleep. I’ll finish up here."

"I believe you," yawned Glaive. He lost consciousness quickly, giving into the dictates of his biology so that his body could heal the damage.

* * *

 

"You know, I forget why I thought this was a good idea."

Back to back, Idrisar and Zevian fought off their attackers with guns, blades, and of course Zevian’s plethora of explosive toys. Idrisar glanced over his shoulder at the taller lashran. “Because you’re an idiot.”

"Ouch." Zevian danced away from him briefly to block the incoming attack of one of the enemy agents with his swords. "Tell me how you really feel, Id."

Idrisar knocked another agent off his feet with a low, sweeping kick, and he followed up with another kick to his temple that knocked him out. “I believe I just did.”

Zevian laughed, even as he stabbed his opponent through the heart. “Are we really having a lover’s spat in the middle of a firefight, baby?”

"You tell me," grunted the lifebearer as he caught a knife thrown his way and sent it whistling back at its owner. "Some might say we’re just making conversation."

"Oh, I’m cool with it if this is a spat," countered Zevian. "That means makeup sex later."

"That’s a marvelous imagination you’ve got, Saber." Idrisar ducked beneath a swinging fighting baton and hit his next opponent in the solar plexus. "The only thing you’re getting after this is a lecture."

"But I’m getting that right now," reasoned the mafia boss, "so that leaves room for the makeup sex later, right?"

Despite his frustration with the situation, Idrisar smiled. “Watch out to your left.”

Zevian turned just as one of the invading Chalice agents started to take aim at him, but Vylden saw the threat from his vantage point behind and to the left, and he shot the man before he could fire his weapon. The agent went down with a bullet in his chest, and Zevian gave his shark a thumbs-up.

"Zevian, why haven’t you used your spirit singing?" questioned Idrisar suddenly as he caught a tear gas canister and threw it back into the midst’s of the enemy forces.

"I’ve tried, kiddo," explained the guild lord, "but they’re shielded, and I don’t have time to unravel all of ‘em."

"But you can still call on the elements," reasoned Idrisar.

Zevian winced. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t think of that.” He was so used to fighting this way that he hadn’t even considered using the elements. He wasn’t exactly in practice with that tactic, either. “I’ll give it a try.”

Idrisar smiled again, briefly. “Good.”

As Zevian tried to bend the elements to his will against their enemies, Agent Wolfe joined them outside again and he hit like a truck. He tackled two of the Ulvari agents, headbutting one of them and clubbing the other with the butt end of his gun. Zevian’s brows shot up as Haden moved on to his next targets without a word.

"Guess he’s pissed off about his partner."

"Just concentrate on your spirit singing," advised Idrisar. "Agent Glaive will be fine, and Agent Wolfe knows what he’s doing."

Zevian didn’t doubt that; Haden was tearing through the ranks with ferocity that made his surname seem very apt, indeed. “I’m working on it, I’m working on it.”

* * *

 

A significant amount of time later, they stood on the smoking lawn amongst the carnage. It occurred to Idrisar that they were very fortunate that the helicopters that carried the Chalice agents weren’t equipped with guns, or this fight might have been a lot shorter. As it was, the pilots took the aircrafts down and the Director approached them with a grim expression on his face. Zevian’s men had gathered up the survivors to be seen to inside—both Zevian’s men and Chalice agents. Idrisar nudged his lover as the Director approached, and Zevian turned from Johnny to regard the man.

"Well, that plan blew up in your faces," said Zevian as Falgas stopped before them. He kept his swords lowered but ready, just in case. "What’s the plan now?"

Falgas looked around, a flicker of uncertainty manifesting in his expression. “Now I report in and let my superiors know that we failed our mission. There isn’t much else I can do.”

"I don’t understand why they sent you on this mission to begin with," said Idrisar calmly. "What were they hoping to gain by it? If the Chalice were to take over the smaller islands, they would have civil unrest to deal with. The guild lords know best how to govern their islands. I fail to see the benefit to your superiors."

"I’m not at liberty to discuss their reasons, Agent Blackbird. I had my orders and I followed them. Now, what of my agents? Will you allow us to retrieve them and identify the fallen?"

Zevian glanced sidelong at his lover. “First I want to have a talk with whoever put you up to this. If they can agree with my terms, I’ll let you take your people home.”

Having little choice but to agree, Falgas nodded.

* * *

 

Once they’d cleared the harbor completely, the damaged Wayfarer vessels that made it through the conflict docked in the shipyard to make repairs. Amongst them was Aurora’s ship and the Cyclone. Captain Hunter likewise docked his ship and had his crew disembark to assist with repairs, while others went into the city to rescue trapped residents and capture any Rippers they found. Zevian had sent some people to assist to that end, but word got out that Oricus was now being advanced on. Due to the damage and losses they’d already sustained in liberating Voldus, the Wayfarer council decided to wait until Saber sent out a distress call to send any ships to his island. So far, reports said that his island’s defenses were holding, so there was no immediate need to send a fleet his way. Zevian had contacted Aurora to let her know that agents Wolfe and Saber had arrived to assist him—which explained why they’d suddenly vanished in the middle of cleaning out the city.

After a couple of hours, Aurora got word from Zevian again and she reported it to Antyan. “Oricus held,” she said as she entered the captain’s cabin on the Black Cat. “Saber staved off the harbor attack _and_ an attack on his home. He lost a couple of his men and one of the agents that went to help him got hurt, but he’s going to make it. He’s going to send more people to help with the cleanup here.”

Antyan closed his captain’s log and nodded. “Good. Since the Cat sustained so little damage, I’ll be in charge of the dead. Sea burial is our best option, due to the low elevation of this island. Burning the corpses isn’t a wise choice; there’s already far too much smoke in the air as it is. Sire and Father should stay here and watch over Vurkanan.”

"Good plan," she agreed. "I’ll tell Hunter to get his ship back out on the water to scout for any Ripper fleets that might take it into their heads to try and take Voldus back."

"Agreed." Antyan retrieved his cellular phone. "I’ll contact Rhinan and relay what’s going on. We’ve a long week ahead of us."

She shrugged. “At least the fighting’s over, for now. I’ll see you top-side.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	11. Chapter 10

* * *

 

Once things settled, they had an ambulance come to take Glaive away to the hospital to get professionally treated for his injury. Idrisar stood outside with Zevian and watched as they loaded up the lishere into the vehicle and allowed Haden to climb in with him. "Keep me updated on his condition, Agent Wolfe," called out Idrisar as they began to close the back doors. 

Haden gave the thumbs-up, and then the doors shut and the ambulance drove away. Zevian put an arm around Idrisar and gave him a comforting little squeeze. "I'm sure he'll be fine." 

Idrisar nodded stoically. "Yes, Glaive is strong. I believe he will be fine, too." He looked at the guild lord with a little smile. "Well, you've managed to hold your island. Well done, Saber." 

"We're on a second-name basis now?" Zevian grinned at him. 

"Old habits," excused the agent. "Well, what is your plan now?" 

Zevian shrugged. "Finish with the cleanup and put the word out that it's safe for all the evacuees to come back home. I guess I should find out what Xellnaise plans to do and let him know his daughter went to Rhuidhim with Azurel and his spouse. I'll help him make arrangements to either bring her back or meet up with her there, depending on what he wants to do. I'm pretty sure he won't be interested in taking over Voldus as its guild lord, so we'll probably have to work out who's next in line for there." 

"You've a lot of work ahead of you," observed Idrisar. "I can stay to help with the cleanup, but Zevian...I do have a son to think of back home." 

Zevian turned to look at him, and his handsome face became pensive and somber. "Yeah, I know. I couldn't ask you to just abandon everything and stay here with me. What are we going to do about this, gorgeous?" 

That was the very question that Idrisar had been dreading coming up. What, indeed? He and Zevian lived very different lives, and while he was highly respected by his department and most of the Ulvari guild as a whole, he knew there was bound to be some questioning of his judgment over his intimate involvement with a prominent member of the Zarnian mafia. He smiled a little wistfully, and he reached up to caress Zevian's face. 

"We'll deal with that later. I'm sure between the two of us that we can come up with some solution to our dilemma. We should get inside and begin planning out our next course of action, before we worry about our future together." 

He turned and walked back into the house then, leaving Zevian to stare after him with brooding, aqua eyes. "That's what worries me, Blackbird," murmured the guild lord under his breath. "Fuck, am I gonna lose you after this is all finished?" 

Ulvari ears were trained to be sharp, and Idrisar heard the soft comment as he started up the steps. He nearly hesitated...nearly turned around to tell Zevian that of course, he wouldn't lose him. He pretended not to hear him though, and he bit his lip as he kept going. He'd already lost two of the sires he'd loved, and he certainly didn't want to lose Zevian as well. The question was whether or not they could endure the difficulties they were sure to face in their relationship, when it came time for him to return home. 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Antyan held a council meeting at the harbor in for all Wayfarer captains to attend. He would have preferred to hold it at their fortress off the coast, but many ships were still damaged and they still needed to be on alert for the possibility of Ripper fleets coming from other parts to try and take back Voldus. Attending the council along with the other captains and their first mates were Tsabrak and Lythallendar. Their numbers were down by four ships—not too bad considering the losses they could have sustained. 

"We shall make this as brief as possible," he stated as they closed off the common room and began the meeting. "We've sustained heavy damage and some losses, but our numbers are still great enough to maintain defense of this harbor and clear out the remaining Ripper forces within the city. None of you are required to stay for longer than necessary to patch up, of course. Participation is voluntary." 

There were nods of agreement all around. All Wayfarers were required to answer a call to arms if at all possible, but the main fight had been won. They were a brotherhood, however. Antyan knew that most of them would stay to assist, or at least return to help finish up. 

"So the question is who's staying and who's going," Aurora chimed in. "You can all discuss it with your crews and get back to us on that. Captain Darshaw here—" she pointed at Antyan—"has already volunteered the Black Cat for burial of the dead at sea. The rest of us should concentrate on ship repairs and running those bilge rats out of the city." 

"As well as rescuing trapped and abducted citizens," added Lythallendar softly. 

Captain Hunter raised two fingers. "Uh, just a minute...I'm confused." 

Aurora smirked at the attractive human pirate. "Can't say I'm surprised, Tristan." 

"Saucy," he accused with a wink at her, "but it's not the plan that's got me scratching my head, vixen. It's the title issue with your family. Don't get me wrong—I'm thrilled your folks came back from the dead and I'm sure everyone here can agree with that, but now we've got _three_ 'Captain Darshaw's' and that's gonna get a little convoluted. Well, four if we start calling you by your surname too." 

"Aye, that could perplex some folk," agreed Tsabrak with a chuckle. 

Aurora shook her head. "No it won't. I'm still Star, as far as everyone save my family is concerned. Tsab's the captain of the Wavecrasher and Daddy's his first mate. Where's the confusion?" 

Tristan gestured at Antyan. "He's a Darshaw too. Still leaves us with two of 'em, unless one of them wants to go by his first name." 

"No need for that either," she pointed out. She gestured at her half-brother. "Antyan here's an Admiral, truth be told. He's the one commanding the fleet. That leaves us with only _one_ 'Captain Darshaw'. Problem solved." 

"Brilliant thinking, dearest," complimented Lythallendar with a smile. He looked to Antyan, who felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Well Antyan? Will you accept the title? It is after all accurate for your position." 

"Or you could just go by 'King Antyan'," suggested Tsabrak with a teasing smirk. 

The raven-haired sire shook his head and grimaced at that suggestion. "I suppose 'Admiral' will do, for identification purposes. I am no king, even if I've taken on a position that once called for such hubris." 

"Didn't think he'd go for that," muttered Aurora to her father with a chuckle. She raised her glass of whiskey in a toast. "To Admiral Darshaw!" 

The others raised their glasses and mugs to the toast. "To the Admiral of the brotherhood!" 

Antyan flushed slightly and gave a stiff nod, provoking a chuckle from his sire and his sister. His father was a bit more understanding of his discomfort, and he laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. "You are still captain of your ship, Antyan. This title changes nothing except to provide less confusion in the ranks."

 Antyan relaxed a bit at those comforting words, and he spared Lythallendar a tiny smile. 

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, they had the names of the ships and crew that were planning to stay for a while and help with the defense and cleanup. People from Oricus arrived on a ship to assist, and Zevian contacted Antyan to warn him to keep an eye out for Chalice interference. A lot of the Wayfarers were relaxing at the harbor inn and having drinks before either calling it a night or getting back to work, depending on each individual crew's situation. They were trying to do things in shifts so that everyone got enough rest. Aurora sat at a table with Tsabrak, catching up on things while Lythas checked on Vurkanan. Antyan had gone to the Wayfarer fort to check on things there and visit with Rhinan for a while. 

"I'd ask about who's left of our family," murmured Tsabrak after having a swallow of ale, "but I think that part's better left for after we've dealt with all of this. Your father and I will concentrate on our task better if we aren't lamenting further losses, I think." 

She nodded, her eyes going shadowed at the thought of parting with that information. She and Vurk had struggled with it for some time, and he still wept in his sleep at times. Of course, most of their losses within the family had occurred before Tsab and her father got lost at sea, but there was at least one she knew of that they hadn't discovered yet. "Of course, you're right. We'll all mourn our family losses after we've seen this through." 

She briefly reached out to squeeze Tsabrak's hand, and then her eyes flicked to a certain human buck she'd been fooling around with for a while now. Tristan was sitting with his newest girlfriend at the bar, leaning intimately close to her as they talked. She smiled at him as they spoke, her eyes never leaving his. 

Aurora heaved a sigh. "Well, that's torn it. Any doubts I had before are gone now." 

"Eh?" Tsabrak gazed at her blankly, until he traced her stare across the room. "Ah, that. Far be it from me to stick my nose in your personal love life, kitten, but it seems to me that Captain Hunter has arrangements with his lovers, just like you do. I'm sure that lass understands the way of it." 

Aurora smirked without humor. "Think so? Have a good look at her, and then try to tell me that again." 

Tsabrak _did_ look, and though he wasn't as sensitive to it as his adopted daughter, he saw what she meant. "Hmm, I see." 

Aurora nodded. "And he might not admit it, but he's just as smitten as she is. Time to let this one go, like I planned." 

She sighed again as the man in question excused himself from Rhiannon's side to go to the men's room, and her eyes strayed to his backside. Tristan had removed his jacket and the toned shape of his ass was nicely outlined by the dark breeches he wore. "Shame. I'm going to miss that sweet arse." 

Tsabrak coughed on his drink. "More than I needed to know, love." 

She chuckled and got up, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll be right back. I've a hunky fish to toss back. It was just good sex, anyway." 

Tsabrak raised his mug to her, his amber gaze betraying a hint of sympathy. "Good luck, my dear. I'll not move from this spot." 

* * *

 

Star intercepted him on his way to the bathroom and she said two words to him. "Come. Now." 

Tristan looked down at his groin. "Er, can I at least pull my pants down first? It'll get kind of messy, otherwise." 

"Heh, you're a funny guy, Hunter...but you know what I mean. I know you aren't that drunk. Come on." 

He followed her dutifully out of the Inn and to the outer corner wall of it. He wasn't sure if he did something wrong or if she was looking for a little action from him. With Star, it wasn't always easy to tell. Come to think of it, with _most_ of his girlfriends, it wasn't easy to tell...except for Rhia. She was always really sweet when happy, and never violent when angry. Her style was more the silent treatment—a thing which he wasn't used to anymore because he'd chosen such aggressive women over the past few years. 

"What's up? I can't tell if you want to flail me or fuck me. I've gotta warn you, Rhia and I haven't set up any rules about me being with another woman when I'm with her, so I'll have to take a rain check, if it's the latter." 

Star turned to face him and she smirked. The moonlight breaking through the clouds shone on her practically flawless ivory skin. "Neither, actually. I wanted to tell you I'm cutting you loose." 

Tristan blinked several times. This woman had once told him she wouldn't cast him off 'till he either got too old to perform, or got married. Given that neither was likely to happen soon, he was understandably confused. "Wait, did you just say you're breaking things off with me?" 

She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. "That's right. Do I need to run that by you again?" 

He pulled his hat off and combed his bangs back from his forehead. "Maybe. What'd I do? Is it 'cause I haven't had any time for you tonight? Maybe Rhia won't mind, if I talk to her about it." 

"Oh yes, she will," corrected Star. "No matter how she tries to hide it from you." 

Tristan gave a worthy pause. He was still in a giddy state over the victory, and he had some trouble absorbing what she was saying. "You think she doesn't like you?" 

Star chuckled and looked out over the harbor. "No, you daft fool. I think she likes _you_ too much for her own good. I also think _you_ like _her_ more than you care to admit. You've barely even looked at me all night, but it didn't slip my notice the way you've been looking at her." 

He was now even more confused. "Wait...are you jealous? _You_?" 

She looked at him with a dry smirk. "Maybe a little, but not for the reasons you think. Bend your ear this way, Tristan, because I'll only explain this once. When you first introduced us on your ship, right before I went overboard to be with my Daddy, I noticed a look from her. I've _seen_ that look in her eyes before. I've _lived_ it. It's the look that comes from trying your damndest to be supportive and not let it shred you to pieces to see the man you love in the arms of someone else. It's one of the shittiest feelings I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing, and I won't be part of the cause for it. Did any of that make it into your thick head?" 

"Well...uh, yeah," he admitted uncomfortably. "I'm not an idiot. I just think you read her the wrong way. Rhia doesn't _want_ a relationship and she knows about my other girlfriends, so if it bothered her, she wouldn't be with me now." 

Star clucked her tongue. "For a man that has so many women, you surely don't know all that much about us, Hunter. Right then; you've got your answer and whether you choose to see it or stick your head in the sand is no business of mine. I won't be the one that visits that sort of pain on someone else, though, so the 'benefits' part of our friendship is over." 

He sighed. "Great. Another one lost." 

She chuckled and reached out and around to pat him on the butt. "It's a shame to lose such a fine, virile buck, but believe it or not, I have a conscience about some things. It's been fun, Captain Hunter. I can honestly say you're one of the few of your kind that can keep up with lashran stamina in the bedroom." 

He grinned. "Aw, shucks, I try. So you're _sure_ you want to do this? Because I really think Rhiannon's okay with the situation." 

Star sighed and gave him a frustrated look. "Maybe the lass is, for the sake of being in your life. Truth is, I'm not. When it's just for fun it's fine, but when hearts get broken is when I draw the line. Maybe someday you'll see that." 

She started to walk away, and Tristan called after her. "Hey, you never told me your real name. Can't I at least get that?" 

The piratess turned to regard him, and she smirked. "That would be Aurora. It's still Star to you and everyone we know, however." 

He nodded. "Got it. That's a really pretty name, though. I'll just use it in my head when I think of you." 

She cast a wink over her shoulder at him, before going back inside. 

* * *

 

 

"Welcome back, Admiral." Rhinan smiled proudly at his lover as Antyan stepped into the den of the fort. The spirit singer was relaxing on one of the couches, sipping tea and reading a book. He set the book aside and got up to greet Antyan as the pirate approached. Near the fire pit in the center of the room, Xellnaise and Erishar were in deep discussion; but the latter overheard Rhinan's greeting and he too got up to greet his captain.

"Excuse me," he said to Quartz, and he joined Rhinan at the den's entry. He gave Antyan a respectful nod and clasped hands with him. "Good to see you, sir. I hear you've been promoted." 

"Not so much promoted as bestowed a new title to avoid confusion." Antyan smirked slightly and squeezed Erishar's hand, before allowing Rhinan to embrace him. There were only a couple of other people up and about in the den, and they were engaged in a game of chess. 

"I can only imagine what it was like to be reunited with your parents." Erishar sounded slightly wistful, and the two older men exchanged a glance. 

"Wyndrah is a big world," offered Antyan. "You never know what could happen." 

"I appreciate the sentiment, Cap'n, but I've come to terms with my family status." Erishar glanced back at Xellnaise, who was staring into the flames of the fire pit. "I think I'd like to help Quartz recover his, though." 

"The adopted daughter, Whitney," said Rhinan with a nod, his dark eyes sympathetic on the exiled guild lord. "He cares nothing for recovering his station on these islands, Antyan. All he wishes to do now is be reunited with his child." 

"So I've noticed," murmured the pirate lord, golden eyes flicking to Xellnaise. He looked at his lover and Erishar again, and he sighed at the hopeful expression on their faces. "Very well. We shall make arrangements to transport him to Rhuidhim so that they might be reunited. I'll require the address of where she's staying so that we may escort him there upon landfall. There are still those that surely wish him ill, despite his having lost his island. Best not to tempt fate and leave him without a bodyguard." 

Upon seeing the Admiral look squarely at him, Erishar nodded and straightened up. "If it pleases you, I'm happy to continue my duties in that matter. It won't interfere with the maintenance of the ship and affairs, sir?" 

Antyan shook his head. "Javel will do just fine until such time as you can resume your duties as First Mate. For now, your responsibility is in keeping this bothersome political figure alive and safe." 

Erishar glanced at Xellnaise again, before lowering his eyes. A faint but very telling flush stole over his cheeks. "A duty I failed at when it mattered," he mumbled. 

Antyan tilted his head thoughtfully. "He is alive, is he not?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Then you did not fail. Such talk is what leads to failure, Erishar. Be confident. Don't instill doubt in yourself. Now if you'll both pardon me, I require a bath. I shall leave it to you to inform Master Quartz of recent decisions. We'll set sail for Rhuidhim once the cleanup is finished and we can be certain both Oricus and Voldus will be secure without our presence." 

Rhinan nodded. "Leave it to us, beloved." 

* * *

 

They watched Antyan go, and Rhinan suddenly turned to Erishar and he nodded toward Xellnaise. "You fancy him." 

Erishar couldn't completely hide his disconcertment. "Pardon, Lord Rhinan?" 

The older lishere smiled in that gentle, soothing way of his. "It's all right, Erishar. There is no wrong in desiring another." 

"That depends on who you ask," muttered Erishar, embarrassed. "Our kind aren't exactly looked on fondly by normal lashran." 

"Define 'normal' for me, please." Rhinan looked honestly puzzled. 

"Well...typical. You know, standard." 

"Ah." The spirit singer nodded. "As I suspected. But tell me something, Erishar: who exactly decides what is 'normal' and what isn't? To the baker, it's a normal thing to wake each day, make his bread and pastries and spend the day selling them. To us, that isn't normal at all. Some humans consider it normal to have opposite gender relations, and they look down on those who prefer the same gender as if they have a choice in whom they are attracted to. Pirates find it perfectly normal and ordinary to sail dangerous waters and get into naval battles, but common citizens shake their heads at their daring, wondering why anyone would live such a hard, risky life." 

"Yes, but—" 

"Erishar," interrupted Rhinan impulsively, laying a bronzed hand on the younger man's shoulder, "regardless of what Lashran society may tell you as a whole, you are perfectly normal; and so am I. So is Antyan's sister Aurora. We may be different from the majority, but we aren't abnormal." 

Erishar smirked a bit, despite his morose feelings. He raised his bright green eyes to look into Rhinan's onyx ones and he envied his ability to pass for a sire if he so wished. "I suppose so, my lord." 

Rhinan smiled again. "Well, I _know_ so. By the way; lishere happen to make the most powerful spirit singers. I think half of the disdain our brethren have for us springs from jealousy." 

Erishar chuckled softly. Rhinan's endless optimism and cheer tended to be infectious. "I won't argue with that one." 

"Good. So go over there, tell the gentleman of your fancy that we are going to make his dream of a peaceful life with his daughter come true, and don't be afraid to show him some affection and kindness. We never know what may happen if we don't explore the possibilities, my lad."

Erishar compressed his lips briefly and he looked at Xellnaise again. The sire looked so sad, staring at the fire with his heterochromatic, contemplative eyes. "And if he rejects my affection? What then?" 

Rhinan shrugged. "Then at least you can say that you've tried. Not everyone will see you as an exotic 'lay', Erishar. There are some in this world who will love you for who you are, not your biological makeup. Just please be careful. I know you aren't an innocent in the ways of intimacy, but when true feelings come into play, we tend to get careless. Don't forget that a child could result of bedding this man, should you take the role of the receiver." 

"I...know." Erishar flushed again, feeling like an awkward teenager all the sudden. For some reason he found it uncomfortable to discuss such things with Rhinan and Antyan. Perhaps it was because they felt almost like parents to him. "I've always been careful on that front." 

"And I hope that you will continue to remain so," whispered Rhinan. "Children are a blessing, but they can seem more a burden to those not prepared to have them. I wish you the best of luck, dear one." 

Erishar nodded and thanked him softly before approaching Xellnaise. Rhinan followed, but he stayed a step or two behind and he allowed Erishar to speak first. 

"Master Quartz, I have news for you that may offer some comfort," advised Erishar in his low voice. 

The displaced guild lord looked up at his bodyguard, dual-colored eyes flicking between him and the white-haired lishere close to him. "Do you? That would be...most welcome. I hardly think the title 'master' is appropriate for me now, though." He smirked in a self-depreciating, rueful way. "I'm clearly master of nothing. Not even my own destiny. Ah, pardon me. I don't mean to launch into self-pity again." 

"You've been through an ordeal," excused Erishar with a shrug. He'd never really had anything until the captain and Lord Rhinan found him, so he could only imagine what it was like to have a home, a family, station and then lose it all in mere days. 

"I'll get straight to the point," Erishar went on, "the Admiral is making arrangements to take you to Rhuidhim to be reunited with your daughter. In addition as you know, some of your belongings have been recovered and they will be shipped to your new address when you settle in." 

Xellnaise sighed with relief. "I cannot thank the Wayfarers or Lord Saber enough for this. I'm just glad that I had the foresight to set up an international account online before all of this happened. I've already looked into it and confirmed that there are branches of my bank in Rhuidhim as well as other parts of Zarn and Nandar—though I daresay I won't be taking Whitney to the latter. At least in Rhuidhim she'll have the opportunity to interact with other humans. I understand there are smaller towns along the coast populated by their kind, and some even live in the capitol city." 

He lowered his gaze in thought, a slight frown marring his lips. "I do wonder if it might be better for her if we moved to Avras, though. Ocathia is too harsh a climate for me and there are so many Ripper havens there, I wouldn't feel safe. Avras, however...it's primarily Wayfarers populating the havens, isn't it?" 

Erishar nodded. "Yes. There are smatterings of Ripper havens here and there and the same is true of Ocathia, but the general rule of thumb is that they dominate the east and we dominate the west—at least in human territories." 

"Don't allow that to cause you fear of Ocathia, however," advised Rhinan. "Most citizens of that continent aren't affiliated with the Rippers at all, and they are quite peaceful as a whole. The Ripper territories are around the costs, naturally, and not every port is Ripper controlled. Like the Wayfarers, they tend to have their bases spread out so as not to make an easier target for authorities to entrap them." 

"I could even give you a list of ports and locations we know are safe, if you ever want to visit Ocathia" offered Erishar, "but that can come later. I think it's a good choice to avoid Ocathia for now, while anyone thinks you could try and reclaim Azirus. We're suggesting you stay in Rhuidhim for a few months before making your final decision. It's the most tolerant lashran nation there is, and the crime rates are low compared to most everywhere else in the world right now." 

Erishar smirked dryly, looking very similar to Antyan for a moment. "Pirates and smugglers tend to avoid lingering in places like that unless they're hiding from their own to save their skins. You're less likely to be targeted for political assassination there, and Rhuidhim is actually very hospitable to refugees." 

"And the government is very protective of visiting diplomats and political readers," added Rhinan with a nod. "I surely don't mean to pressure your decision Mister Quartz, but Erishar is right; this will be the safest place for you and Whitney to live for a while. It is true that tensions are mounting between Nandar and Rhuidhim again, but there haven't been hostilities as of yet. I suspect you'll have the opportunity to move locations long before another war breaks out, if it even does." 

Xellnaise nodded, too grateful to be getting back to his adopted daughter again to argue with their advise. "Again, thank you all so very much. I'll send compensation—" 

"No need," interrupted Rhinan swiftly. "Please, keep your savings for yourself and your child. It may take some time for you to find your feet again, though I imagine there will be plenty of positions available for you in Rhuidhim." 

Xellnaise looked faintly doubtful. "I'm...or I _was_...a guild lord, sir. I really can't imagine there being much available in a lawful city for someone previously associated with the lashran mafia." 

Rhinan smiled. "You might be surprised, friend. You have other talents—sorcery and astronomy, to name two of them. You also have a gentle heart and a way with language. Given the latter two and your experience with Zarn, you may even find yourself offered a diplomatic seat on the council. You have managed to survive in a hostile environment. Give yourself more credit and stretch your wings. You are no longer grounded by your legacy. You are free of it now, to pursue a life more suitable to you." 

Xellnaise seemed to straighten up a bit with those inspiring words and Erishar smirked again, nodding towards Rhinan. "He's a wordsmith, isn't he? I agree with him, though. You just need more confidence, Xellnaise." 

Xellnaise tucked a lock of silver-white, wavy hair behind one pointed ear and he looked between the two of them, his uncertainty visibly fading a bit more. "When do we leave?" 

* * *

 

A couple of days later, Vurkanan finally awoke from his healing trance. He was understandably confused at first and he asked for Aurora as soon as the doctor came to check in on him. She was at his side only a short while later and she smiled down at him as he reached for her hand. 

"Aurora," he said weakly, "did I actually catch myself on fire?" 

She chuckled and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You did, but that was hardly your fault. We got rammed by one of those bastards just as you were ready to loose it on their ranks and you slipped. How are you feeling, love?" 

"Like I just grew back skin after falling into a fire," he remarked dryly, smirking a little. His eyes widened briefly and he reached up with his free hand to touch his hair. "Oh dear...how bad is it, kitten? These bandages make it difficult to tell how much of my hair is gone!" 

"Shh, don't fret," she advised, stroking his tangled but soft locks soothingly with her other hand. "Only a little got singed before we put you out. I know you can grow that part back with a spell. I've seen you do that before, you vain peacock." 

Vurkanan relaxed, having briefly forgotten that fact in his moment of disoriented panic. He relaxed against the pillows and looked around with a frown. He could tell he was on a ship because he could feel the gentle rocking, but it didn't look like Aurora's quarters or any sleeping quarters on her vessel that he could recall. It appeared to be a master suite. "Are we on the Harpy?" 

She shook her head. "No, but if you have a better look around you might find it's familiar to you." 

The sorcerer blinked to clear the sleep from his eyes and he studied his surroundings more carefully. He recognized the layout of the room, certainly. It was like a faded dream to him though, and he was still woozy from his slumber. He was just about to demand that she just stop the evasive hints and tell him where they were when the cabin door banged open and a tall silhouette filled the doorway. 

"He's awake?" called a hauntingly familiar voice. 

Vurkanan struggled to sit up, narrowing his eyes at the figure. The room was dim and the light from the hallway outside of it backlit the figure, making it difficult for him to make his features out even with his enhanced lashran vision. He could only see that the man had long, thick hair and seemed to be wearing a tricorn on his head. Vurkanan thought he could make out the tips of pointed ears parting the locks, and he thought he saw silver highlights. 

"Aye, he's rejoined the living," Aurora replied. "Don't just stand there in the doorway...come talk to him!" 

Vurkanan's eyes began to water from the light streaming in as the newcomer walked in slowly, almost hesitantly. "Please," rasped the sorcerer, feeling a thrill of vague premonition, "the light...it hurts my eyes and I'm terribly thirsty. Wildcat...is there water?" 

"Stop squeezing my hand so hard before you shatter it," she admonished. She eased her hand out of his and she unhooked a flask from her belt, unscrewing the top. "Here; sip it slowly, Vurk." 

"You're sure it is _water_ and not _whiskey_?" he asked, trying to work moisture into his mouth. "I warn you, I may spew otherwise." 

She patted the other side of her belt. "The whiskey's in the metal one, Vurk. I wouldn't do that to you." 

He kept his eyes on the stranger with the familiar voice as the man shut the door, and he sipped from the flask Aurora held to his lips. "Who is he?" he inquired suspiciously after taking a few pulls and finding his voice again. 

Then the man drew nearer and he saw the glitter of amber lashran eyes in the dimness. At first he thought it was Antyan, but as the visitor stepped into the dim glow of the lantern light, he realized the truth. Vurkanan was thankful that he wasn't still in the process of swallowing or he might have choked in shock. 

"We're dead," he whispered, jumping to the first conclusion he could think of. "We _must_ be! Otherwise you could not _be_ here!" 

Tsabrak shook his head and his eyes were suspiciously moist as he sat down on the edge of the large, slatted bed and gazed upon him. "You aren't dead, Vurk. Neither am I. There is...much to be explained." 

Vurkanan's eyes flicked between what he still believed to be a ghost and Aurora. "H-how? What _is_ this? If I am not dead, am I dreaming?" 

"Not at all," she said with a smile. Her eyes were becoming moist too, and she nodded at Tsabrak. "He's really here. Turns out they were hibernating for all that time, just like we did. They survived the shipwreck but they were weak and needed to heal. Daddy's here too, and he should be in here soon too. He was in the engine room and I sent someone to fetch him. It's real." 

Vurkanan impulsively clasped Tsabrak's hands as his brother reached for them and he swallowed. "T-tell me everything. No, wait...first...first I have to...help me up!" 

Tsabrak obligingly released his hands so that he could slip one arm beneath Vurkanan's shoulders to help him sit up, and then he embraced him without question. Both siblings trembled with emotion and neither could speak for long moments. Aurora watched on silently, blinking rapidly and whispering curses to herself for being a crybaby as they just held each other. 

"Alive," Vurkanan finally whispered past an aching throat, pawing at Tsabrak just to reassure himself that he was in fact solid, warm and real. "You really are _alive_!" 

He pulled back slightly to cup his older brother's handsome face, studying his features in the soft glow of light. Tsabrak looked the same as he remembered, though there fatigue lined his eyes. Vurkanan brushed away the tears that had escaped Tsab's eyes and rolled down his cheeks, unmindful of his own wet face. 

"And Lythallendar? He's whole, too?" 

Tsabrak nodded. "Aye, he's—" 

The door opened a second time—much more gently than when Tsabrak shoved it open before. A pale face framed by long black locks peeked in, and all three occupants looked to see the glow of emerald green eyes peering out from that face. 

"Vurkanan?" called Lythallendar's melodic voice softly, as if fearing to hurt the recovering lifebearer's ears with harsh tones of excitement. 

"Come in, come in!" Vurkanan released one arm's hold on his brother to beacon to Lythas urgently, vision again blurring with further tears. "Dear forests, let me touch you!" 

"Don't get fresh now," Aurora joked with a shaken laugh as her father smiled and padded in, closing the door behind him. 

"Oh come now, you know what I meant," huffed Vurkanan, but his voice broke at the end and as soon as Lythas sat down on the other side of the bed, he hugged him. He did the same to Lythallendar as he'd done to Tsabrak; patting him to be sure he was solid and then touching his face. His heart was soaring but it was a bittersweet joy after believing both of them long gone for years. "I need to know everything...tell me all of it!" 

"Calmly now," advised Lythallendar gently. He swallowed with emotion and he accepted his daughter's water flask when she offered a swallow to him. Once he'd finished, he took a shaken breath and he looked to his bondmate. "Well, beloved...shall you begin or shall I?" 

"I'll start," offered Tsabrak, "though I fear we may need to take turns, love. Much as I'd like to deny it, I think I might choke up partway through." 

"I as well," sighed Lythas. "All right then, you begin and I'll continue when you need a rest. It really isn't such a long story, and Aurora has already explained theirs and Antyan's to us." 

Tsabrak nodded. "Right. We can discuss it more after Vurkanan's had some rest and nourishment. I'd rather not tire him out." 

With that said, Tsabrak began to explain to his brother everything that had happened since they last saw one another, with Lythallendar taking up where he left off whenever he needed a break. They avoided the subject of lost loved ones for the time being, simply catching up on what had been going on with them and passing around Aurora's water flask to moisten dry throats.

 

* * *

 

A little over two hours later, Antyan came aboard the Wave crasher and he went to the Captain's suite to check on Vurkanan. He'd just returned to the harbor from his task and upon hearing his uncle was awake, he immediately boarded the ship to visit him. He cracked open the door quietly, already suspecting that the rest of his family had already been to see him since he regained consciousness. When his eyes adjusted to the change of luminance a quiet rare smile curved his lips. Somehow all four of them had managed to fit into the queen-sized bed together, with Vurkanan sandwiched between Lythas and Tsabrak and Aurora curled up at their feet like a cat. 

"Whooo," cooed the black owl on Antyan's shoulder, and he turned his head to glance at her. 

"Quiet, Tenja," he admonished softly. He stroked her beak gently, and he turned to go and leave his family to their rest. He paused and looked back, his eyes going to the armchair secured to the floor near the bed, and he glanced at his feathered companion again. "Go to your roost. I shall see you in the morning." 

She tilted her head at a ninety-degree angle, blinking at him. Sensing his desire, she took off from his shoulder and flapped her way through the lower decks, up and out through the hatch, leaving him to his devices. 

Knowing the owl would find her way back to her roost either on his ship or in the fortress, Antyan quietly stepped into the room and he made his way across the floor. He sat down in the chair on Lythallendar's side and he sighed softly, turning the lantern off. He removed his hat and set it on the floor, and then he relaxed as well as he could in the armchair. Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes to take a nap with his reunited family. He felt a touch on his hand a moment later and he lifted his head and opened his eyes to see that his father had reached out instinctively to put his hand on his. Lythas' side of the bed was closest to the chair, and true to his nature, the lifebearer had sensed his presence even in his sleep. 

Antyan took the pale hand in his and he felt a quiet sense of connection with the four of them. He closed his eyes again and he let the rocking of the ship soothe him to sleep, knowing that his crew would know what to do during his absence. 

* * *

 

Upon the balcony overlooking the sea, Rhinan stood outside the chambers he was sharing with Antyan whilst there. He was speaking to someone that most would not have been able to see, but he wasn't worried because he kept his voice pitched low and everyone that knew him by now was used to him looking out at the night sky and murmuring to himself. 

"Thank you," he said to the phantasms standing on the balcony with him. "Thank you all for very much for your aid. I know how important they are to you, and this may not have been possible without your help." 

He bowed his head and smiled softly, not expecting for Antyan to join him anytime soon. He'd already seen Tenja flying away from the Wave Crasher and he suspected she would do a bit of hunting for a tasty morsel before returning to a roost. He contemplated life and death as the phantasms said their farewells and left him alone. 

One was a young human male with strawberry blond hair kept in a ponytail, fair skin, blue eyes and freckles. Another was also a human in his thirties perhaps, handsome blond and wearing a beard. Then there was the golden-haired sire with the green eyes, and the rather beautiful and tall lifebearer with long, vivid locks of blended red and gold and the intense violet eyes. The last one Rhinan had been familiar with in life, as well as the polite, warm-mannered sire that stayed close to the redhead. Both had once been political figures of Rhuidhim. The rest he'd only met in passing, or not at all. They had been all too eager to assist him when he reached out to the spirit realm for family ties—and not all family ties were by blood alone. 

There was one human spirit in the group that lingered on his mind. He'd known just who he was the moment he connected with him. Fortunately there was no resentment or animosity because he was overall a good soul, and he held no grudge against Rhinan for being with Antyan. He'd even thanked him for being at his side for all these years. That was good. Rhinan didn't quite know how to react when he received a response from that one. 

Closing his eyes, the spirit singer whispered one last expression of gratitude into the night breeze. "Thank you especially, Gordon. I _do_ recall meeting you in life, if only briefly. You were older in the flesh then, but your spirit reflects your youthful nature. I shall watch over him always, as I'm sure you will." 

Rhinan felt a light, tickling caress against the hand he'd rested on the balcony railing and he looked down to see a palm-sized, pure white moth settled there. It seemed perfectly content to rest on the top of his hand, its wings moving slowly up and down for circulation. He smiled at it, putting aside his bittersweet thoughts as he gazed down at it with eyes nearly as black as its own. 

"Well hello there, my friend. Long journey? I should thank you and your cousins, too. You helped me reach further than I could have on my own, after all." 

He gently touched a finger to the moth's fluffy body, giving it a brief pet. "I have sugar water for you, if you're fatigued from your journey." 

The moth rubbed its face and looked at him inquisitively. Rhinan imagined he could see excitement in the beady black eyes. He chuckled. "Come inside with me and I shall be happy to accommodate." 

He turned and his robes flapped lightly in the breeze as he carried his visitor back through the doors and into his suite.

 

* * *

 

-To be continued


	12. Chapter 11

"Umnh...what beastie stepped on my head?" Glaive cracked his eyes open and immediately regretted it as the harsh fluorescent light overhead assaulted the sensitive lenses. "Bloody hell, that's bright!"

"Take it easy," said a welcome, familiar voice as Glaive shut his eyes. "I'll dim it for you. Wow, I don't know why they make hospital room lights so bright. It's bad enough they always come wake you up when you're trying to recover without blinding you."

"You said it, mate," sighed Glaive. He heard a click and he sensed the light dimming. More cautiously, he slowly opened his eyes. Haden had turned off the overhead lights and left only the wall sconce lit. That was more bearable. Glaive rubbed his eyes and he looked at his partner as he rubbed the spot where he'd been knifed. It was slightly tender, but it had healed up while he was asleep. "How long have I been out and where are we?"

"A little over a day, and we're at the Oricus hospital." Haden's wolf-like, pale gray eyes expressed relief as he looked him over. "How are you feeling?"

"I've seen better days," sighed the lishere. He clenched his hands experimentally and he reached for the bed control remote to raise the head of it. "I suppose us being here means Saber won out against those enemy agents."

Haden nodded. "Yup. The Wayfarers are going to make a try to take Azirus back after they recuperate and get some reinforcements in, from what I've been told. I dunno how well that's going to pan out, though. Reports are saying the Rippers have that island locked down tight and they've pretty much all gathered there. It'll take a lot of firepower to liberate that place."

"At least they've held Oricus and Voldus so far," Glaive said. He smirked at Haden upon noticing the concern still plain on his face. "Stop looking so worried, love. I'm fine now. Just groggy from being unconscious for a day and a half."

Haden shrugged. "Well, you were in pretty bad shape by the time they loaded you onto the ambulance. You'd lost a lot of blood and you're still a little pale."

Glaive looked at his arm and he noted that he did indeed seem to be a tad less bronze than usual. "Fair enough, but try not to 'mother hen' me to death. I hate that shit."

Haden chuckled and lowered his gaze. "I think I'd rather celebrate you waking up, but the door doesn't have a lock on it and I don't want to get kicked out of the hospital."

Glaive raised a silver-white brow with intrigue. "What about the bathroom?" He nodded at the door to said room. "We could celebrate in there, mate."

Haden glanced toward the bathroom and he flushed. "That's not really the best place to get it on, man."

Glaive shrugged and grinned at him, winking. "Why not? If we could manage in that tiny lavatory on the plane we could manage in there."

"I was invisible on the plane," reminded Haden, cheeks going even pinker.

Glaive reached out and squeezed the other man's thigh. "And while that was an...interesting encounter, now I can see you. I haven't had your cock for a while, Agent Wolf. I'm starting to get antsy."

Haden looked at him uncertainly, but Glaive could already see that his body was reacting favorably to his pillow talk. The crotch of the knight's jeans was beginning to bulge conspicuously and Glaive took advantage of the moment to give it a tempting squeeze. "Not even a 'quickie' to tide me over 'till we can get out of this place?"

Haden gulped, his breath catching in response to his partner's groping. He put one hand over the lishere's massaging one in a weak attempt to remove it, but Glaive refused to comply. He kept rubbing it and he ran his tongue over his lips slowly, drawing that lupine gaze to his mouth.

"Come on, Wolfe," coaxed Glaive in a seductive purr. "Don't you want to remind me of what it feels like to have you deep inside of me, making me moan with every hard, firm thrust?"

"Oh gods," groaned the knight, and then Glaive knew he had him right where he wanted him. Haden leaned in closer for a kiss, his tongue immediately sliding into the lishere's mouth to dance with his own. Glaive smiled into the kiss with triumph, pleased to have won the battle of morals versus desire.

"Now let's sanctify that bathroom," purred Glaive when they broke the kiss.

This time Haden offered no protest.

* * *

He didn't think it was possible to forget what it felt like to have his partner inside of him, but it seemed like each experience was a new one. Glaive did his best to check his moans and attempt to keep his voice down, knowing that one of the hospital staff or doctors could come into his room to check on him at any moment. With his hands braced on the basin and his long hair pulled to one side, he loomed over the sink while Haden took him from behind. That was at least _one_ advantage to those ridiculous, revealing hospital gowns—no need for underwear removal.

"Ah...r-right there," he gasped encouragingly when Haden's next thrust came in at an angle that made his body throb with pleasure. "Perfect, love...oohh!"

Panting in his ear, Haden complied with his demands and kept his angle steady. "Like this? Unh...y-you're squeezing, babe."

"Indeed I am," agreed Glaive with a blissful smirk. He loved to do this to his lover when he bottomed. It always drove Haden crazy and made his self-control slip. "Mmm, you like that, don't you, sexy? Feels good...to have me tightening around you...with each pump. Ahh...ooh mother of fuck, Haden!"

The knight had begun to slam into him roughly—as tended to happen when Glaive pushed his buttons just right. Not that he had anything against good, slow loving but they really didn't have time for a prolonged encounter, and Glaive enjoyed a thorough pounding now and then too. He could tell by Haden's uneven panting and increasingly erratic thrusts that he was getting close. Glaive was already starting to come in the knight's stroking hand and he bit his lip to hold back his cry of bliss.

"Oh yeah," groaned Haden in satisfaction, always pleased to bring his partner to completion. "Feels so good, Glaive..."

He lasted for a few more moments before he too succumbed to the pleasure and he tensed up behind the lishere as he bucked inside of him. "Glaive," Haden moaned, seemingly unable to help himself. He bowed over the lishere's back, still twitching inside of him.

"Mm, now _that_ was a quality quickie," observed Glaive once he could speak again.

"I'll last longer...next time," panted Haden.

"I'm sure you will," agreed Glaive with a smirk over his shoulder at him. "Pity we don't have the luxury of privacy to take our time, but even a quick lay with you is always a pleasure."

Still flushed and gasping, Haden kissed his shoulder and he eased gently out of him. "I didn't hurt you any, did I?"

"You ask me that question every time you let yourself go a bit," chuckled Glaive. He straightened up and he reached for the toilet paper to clean them both up. "My answer is always the same, love. I can take a pounding and I even prefer it sometimes."

"At least...this time you didn't...do that spirit singing thing with me." Haden took the offered strip of toilet paper from his partner and he wiped himself off before chucking it in the toilet. "I wouldn't have been able to keep quiet at all if you'd done that."

Glaive smirked at him and he dropped his gown back down. "Not only that, you even drop a swear word now and then when I do that. I rather like it when you slip up like that."

"Can't really help it," sighed Haden. He tucked himself back into his underwear and jeans and he zipped them up. "But _you_ cuss like a sailor every time."

"Damned right I do." Glaive kissed him lingeringly. "I enjoy being descriptive when you're fucking me or vice-versa. Consider it a compliment to your bedroom skills. Now, don't you feel better?"

"Lots," admitted Haden. He heard the door to the hospital room open and he blushed when he heard the nurse call out for them. "Oh, crap."

Glaive remained unconcerned. "Put an arm around me like you're supporting me," he whispered. Aloud, he called out to the nurse. "Just a moment. My partner was just helping me."

Haden opened the door and he did as Glaive advised, making a show of helping him back to the bed. His face was still quite pink but that could easily be attributed to the embarrassment of helping someone else go to the bathroom.

"How are you feeling, Agent Glaive?" questioned the young woman as she watched Haden get the lishere back to the bed and tuck him in.

"Much better now," answered Glaive with a wink at his partner. "I'm feeling rather peckish, though."

"They'll bring you dinner in about a half hour," she promised. She checked his vitals and she made a note on his chart. "The doctor will come by after you eat and if he's satisfied with your recovery, you could be getting released as early as tonight."

"That would be cool," said Haden. He looked at Glaive once the nurse left again, deeming it safe to talk about confidential things. "Oh yeah, I spoke with Director Talith and he wants us to come back as soon as you're strong enough to travel. I guess the board's been asking about what's going on here and he needs us to give our full report."

Glaive frowned. "So then they know we violated protocol to come here."

Haden winced a bit. "I'm not sure what they know, honestly. Talith says he's got our back but I don't know if they'll buy the excuse that we came here for a vacation and just got caught up in things."

"Well, that's our story and we're sticking to it," insisted Glaive. "We haven't had a vacation for some time and we're entitled."

Haden sighed. "None of our vacations lately have really been 'vacations'. Doesn't look like we'll actually get a real one for a while now."

"Sorry mate." Glaive adjusted his bed a little and he turned on the television. "I'd take you somewhere nice that doesn't involve lunatic killers or fights between pirates and gangsters if I could. Next time we'll plan a real one."

"That would be nice." Haden sat down in the visitor chair to watch the news with his partner, and of course it was about the recent liberation of two of the islands. Both of them wondered how much their friends at home had heard of the situation, since for a while there was no media coming out of Zarn.

* * *

A few days later some of the Wayfarers left Zarn—only after confirming that another attack from their rivals wasn't likely to happen. Amongst the ships preparing to leave were the Sea Lion and Captain Charle's ship. Erishar and Xellnaise were aboard the latter, being transported to Rhuidhim so that Quartz could reunite with his adopted daughter. Aurora and Vurkanan stayed behind with everyone else to finish up with repairs and cleanup, but she made sure to tell Captain Hunter that she thought he was a bloody idiot before he left.

"Wow, so much for fond farewells," he observed after receiving her scathing accusation. "What'd I do this time?"

The lashran woman looked pointedly up at his ship, where Rhiannon Argyle was leaning over the railing with a rather morose expression on her face. "You're taking her back home, that's what."

Tristan glanced over his shoulder at the petite redhead. "Well yeah. She wasn't supposed to be here in the first place, Star. She could have gotten killed! The little stinker snuck back onto my ship when we left to come here and she hid away until we were too far away from Valkyrie Falls to turn around and take her back."

"And _why_ do you think she decided to stowaway, Tristan?" pressed Aurora relentlessly. "You said she knew where you were heading so I don't think she was after a cruise."

He sighed and took off his tricorn to run his fingers through his silver-streaked brown hair. "I dunno...maybe she didn't understand the danger. Maybe she was just after an adventure. I never claimed to understand women completely, you know."

She sighed and she reached up to cup his whiskered chin. "No handsome...you don't understand women at all. That girls' as green a sailor as they come and she still snuck onto your ship, knowing the kind of danger she'd be in. She did it anyways so that she could be with you, daft man."

The look in Tristan's hazel eyes gave him away. He wasn't as ignorant of Rhiannon's motives as he tried to pretend. Aurora rolled her eyes. Whether he was doing this out of fear of committing to one woman or because he was trying to protect Miss Argyle, Aurora knew he was making a mistake. He'd just have to figure that out on his own, however.

"Do what you think you need to," she finally said. "I think you're going to regret dropping her off, though."

She spared one last token of affection and she rose to her tiptoes to kiss him chastely on the cheek. "Good luck and safe sailing, Captain Hunter."

"Same to you, Captain Star." He smiled and winked at her in that charming way of his before putting his hat back on and boarding his ship. He gave Rhiannon a brief hug before going inside to the bridge and soon there was rock music blasting from the ships speaker system.

Rolling her eyes again at the man's foolishness, Aurora sighed and went back to her own ship to do inspections.

* * *

Haden and Glaive returned to Valkyrie Falls a few days later, and as agreed they stuck with the story that they'd gone to take a vacation and simply got embroiled in the situation there. Of course, Director Stevenson found that difficult to believe even though Director Talith had vouched for the two agents.

"Why on Wyndrah would you choose a place run by mafia and pirates to take a vacation?" she demanded of Haden. Her authority over Glaive was limited but that wasn't so when it came to Agent Wolfe, and she stared him down as a reminder that he answered to her.

Unsettled by that green glare, Haden did his best to be convincing. He hated to lie but he could get demoted or even fired if he admitted he'd gone against orders. "The place has a history," he excused with a shrug. "Thought it would be cool to check it out, and since we know Zevian Saber we thought Oricus would be safe enough."

"We didn't know all hell was about to break loose over there," added Glaive calmly. "We couldn't exactly book a flight back home once that happened, either. The airport was shut down and our only option was to stay and do what we could to correct the situation."

Haden nodded. "And we booked a flight the minute the airport was open again." That much was true, at least.

"Yet ironically, Agent Blackbird just happened to be vacationing in the very same place," Valerie pointed out. "In fact he's still there."

"Agent Blackbird booked his vacation there for a different reason," explained Talith. "In truth, he took unpaid leave in order to act as Zevian Saber's bodyguard after discovering there was a hit out on him. He had no way of knowing the Rippers and the Chalice intended to move in on the island and seeing as he is no longer an active field agent, I had no reason to deny his request for personal time off."

The human director looked more irritated. "I'm inclined to believe there's more to this than any of you are telling me, and if I find out the two of you knowingly went over the board's head to interfere after we were instructed to stay out of it, I'll have no choice but to take disciplinary measures."

"Just so you're wearing a leather bodysuit and spiked heels when you do it," suggested Glaive.

"Dude!" Haden stared at his partner in shock, and then he blushed when he looked back at his director. "I'm sorry Ma'am. He didn't mean that."

"Says who?" Countered Glaive. "If she's going to punish us, it might as well be fun."

"All right, that's enough," sighed Talith. "Valerie, please excuse Agent Glaive's inappropriate humor."

"I've begun to get used to it," she groused. "You, Agent Glaive, are treading on thin ice over very deep water. I would curb my tongue if I were you."

"I can roll it," offered the lishere. "Would that do?" He then gave a demonstration.

"Uh, so about that report," Haden said when the woman flushed with anger, "we should get right on that. Come on, Glaive...let's leave the nice directors alone and go do that."

He all but dragged the lishere out of Talith's office and he nudged him when Glaive chuckled. "It's not funny. What, are you _trying_ to get demoted or suspended?"

"Not at all," answered Glaive. "I'm just acting as my nature dictates. It _did_ stop her interrogation, did it not?"

Haden sighed.

* * *

A couple of weeks went by and Idrisar was still in Zarn with Zevian. He touched bases with the agency and he phoned Glaive to let him know how things were going there. After getting off the phone with Blackbird and relaying information to his partner, Glaive managed to get them both into trouble again. This time he offended a visiting inspector by asking him if he'd bathed in his cologne that morning. Haden only made things worse and he got accused of patronizing the man when he tried to compliment the smell of his cologne. After the inspector left in a huff, the directors of their perspective departments had words with them and chewed them both out.

"Man, the crap I get into with you," complained Haden as they walked the halls together and prepared to go on a drug bust. "I—oh, wait...my phone's going off." He dug it out of his pocket and he smiled when he saw the name on the ID screen. "Hey, it's Rhiannon! I guess she must have made it back too."

He answered the phone but he was too late. It must have been ringing for a while because she'd hung up. "Ah, nuts. Guess I'd better call her back."

"While you do that, I'm going for a piss," said Glaive.

He took a left and he went to the men's room to relieve his bladder. When he came back out he found Haden still standing where he was before, and the knight had a look of concern on his face.

"Will do, Rhia. Just try to think positive, okay?"

He hung up the phone with her and he sighed. "Wow, I guess she's really got it bad for that pirate she was with. She's worried because she hasn't heard anything from him since he dropped her off in VF. She's afraid he might have been arrested or something so I'm going to check the database after we do this raid and see if anything comes up on the records."

Glaive raised a brow. "I know how fond you are of the girl, but it's quite possible her pirate is blowing her off."

"Yeah, she's worried about that too," admitted Haden with a grimace, "but I don't know...he seemed to really like her. She just wants to know if he's locked up or in the hospital somewhere before she comes to that conclusion. I told her she ought to check with her friend Auric's boyfriend since he's a doctor. He could find out if the guy's been admitted to any hospitals lately."

"I almost hope he has been," muttered Glaive.

"Why?" Haden frowned at him. "You have something against the man?"

"No, but _you_ will if he hurts your little friend. At least if he's been jailed or hospitalized it means he hasn't dumped her."

The knight made a frustrated sound in his throat. "Good point. Rhia's had enough man troubles without some pirate breaking her heart on top of everything. Well, there's nothing I can do about it right now, so let's get this raid over with. I want to check through the database as soon as I can."

"You're a good friend, partner." Glaive smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder.

* * *

As it turned out, Captain Hunter actually _was_ in jail, along with all of his crew. Haden found the record the next day and he was about to call Rhiannon to let her know when she called him instead. "Hey, good timing," he said. "I've got good news and bad news for you, Rhia."

"I know," she said before he could finish. "They're all in jail."

Haden blinked. "Have you been taking up mind reading or something?"

She sighed. "Nope. I just got a phone call from their defense attorney and he's asked me to travel to Cothmere and go to court as a character witness. I guess they got arrested for smuggling when they were in Harroway and they got transported to the capital to face trial."

Haden nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was about to call and tell you. So are you going to do it?"

"Of course!" She answered. "I can't just leave them all to rot or face a death sentence if I can help it."

Haden grimaced, wondering how much good Rhiannon's testimony would do. Unfortunately he didn't know anything about Tristan Hunter or his crew, except that they all seemed fond of Rhiannon. Otherwise he'd have offered, but his testimony would carry no weight at all. "Is the lawyer going to call in any other witnesses?"

"Mr. Cole said he's going to contact Zevian Saber since Tristan's done business with him in the past."

Haden winced again. A mafia boss wasn't exactly the best character witness for a pirate...but Idrisar was with Zevian and that might work out to their advantage. "You should ask him to request Agent Blackbird's testimony too, Rhia. He's got a great reputation with the law and he might be able to help."

"Okay, I'll make that suggestion," she answered. "Thank you, Haden. I really appreciate your advice and effort."

"No problem, Rhiannon. You'll love Mr. Saber and Agent Blackbird. Good luck with the trial, okay? Keep me updated."

"I will. Thanks again."

Haden hung up and he closed down the data base just as his partner came in. "Well, turns out her boyfriend and his crew _are_ in jail, and their lawyer called up Rhiannon wanting her to testify as a character witness. Sounds like he's bringing in Mr. Saber too but I suggested she tell him to ask Blackbird for his testimony also."

Glaive nodded. "That would certainly help their case more than Saber. I like the man but one criminal testifying for another won't do much to help their case."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too." Haden stretched and covered a yawn. "Man this day's going by slow."

Glaive sat down a bag of takeout on Haden's desk. "So long as the night goes slower, eh?"

"Hmm." Haden opened up the bag to get his sandwich out of it. "I'm worried about Rhiannon though. If this doesn't go their way she'll have to visit her boyfriend in jail for the next ten to twenty years. That's not fair to her."

Glaive took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk and he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "There is _one_ way to ensure Captain Hunter and his crew leave that courtroom as free men and women..." His coral gaze flicked to Haden and he smirked slyly. "...but you won't like it."

Haden regarded him suspiciously. "What are you planning now? Please don't tell me you're going to suggest Mr. Saber use his spirit singing abilities on the judge or jury to fix the verdict."

"Nothing quite so involved," assured Glaive. "I was thinking more along the lines of them having to declare a mistrial."

Haden was still confused. "Why would they have to do that?"

Glaive chuckled. "Consider what would happen if the processing paperwork was done incorrectly, love. Suppose someone in the department that initially detained them slipped and didn't fill out something vital to legally hold them."

Haden stared at him. "You're right; I don't like where this is going. Are you suggesting illegally altering something?"

"I would never suggest you or I do that," answered Glaive with a shrug, "however, there are certain parties I could mention that scenario too, and we certainly aren't responsible for what they do or don't do with that information."

Haden started to speak, stopped himself, then shook his head and got out of his chair. "I'm going to go to the bathroom," he announced. "I didn't hear any of this, if anyone asks."

Glaive smirked at him, realizing the knight was pointedly turning his back on the situation without actually telling him he shouldn't do this. When he was alone in the office, Glaive got out his mobile phone and he searched his contact list until he found the number he thought would provide the best results.

"Hello, Aurora," he greeted when the piratess picked up the phone. "Did you know that your friend Captain Hunter and his crew are in jail and due to be on trial for illegal smuggling and criminal mischief? Ah, I see. Oh, I wouldn't suggest that method, love. They're in the capital and as you know, Cothmere is land-locked. In fact you probably shouldn't suggest to me that you're considering breaking them out. There _is_ one possibility though, depending on how thorough the authorities in Harroway were with the processing paperwork when they arrested them."

He grinned when she asked what he was getting at. "Well, say for example they had no warrant when they arrested them. That would amount to an illegal search and seizure and they would have no choice but to declare it a mistrial and let them go. Mm-hmm. Harroway law enforcement has been known to slip up on paperwork before, so anything is possible."

On the other line, Aurora chuckled. "I see. That'd be too bad for the authorities, wouldn't it?"

"Yes it would," agreed the lishere, guessing she understood what he was hinting at. "Well, I'd best get back to work. I hope everything works out for the best for Captain Hunter."

"Thanks, lad. I hope so too."

* * *

"Well, that was interesting," Idrisar said as he got off the phone.

Zevian glanced up from the newspaper he was reading on the couch. "What was?"

"I just finished speaking with a Mr. Cole—an attorney representing the Wayfarers. He's asked me to travel to Cothmere to testify as a character witness for Captain Hunter and his crew. I really don't know the man...do you?"

Zevian nodded. "Yeah, he's done some...er...he's transported some perfectly legal goods for me in the past to clients."

Idrisar smirked. "'Perfectly legal', is it?"

Zevian shrugged and spread his hands, dropping the paper. "In Zarn it is. What'd they get popped with?"

"Smuggling illegal goods," answered the Ulvari agent succinctly. "Have you checked your messages. Mr. Cole said that he tried to contact you but your voicemail picked up. He wants you to testify too."

Zevian blinked. "Me? What the hell good would _that_ do?"

"It would help the jury see them as something other than pirates," reasoned Idrisar. "They did after all help defend the islands and rescue civilians. People know what's been going on here now and hearing you testify that Captain Hunter and his crew saved the lives of women, lifebearers and children caught up in the struggle might persuade leniency."

"Hmm." Zevian thought about it and he nodded. "Well, if you think it'll do any good. I guess it can't hurt and I can leave Vylden in charge here for a few days. I owe Captain Hunter that much for helping out in this shit storm."

Zevian watched him thoughtfully as he got out his phone and listened to his voicemail. Sure enough, he had a call from Mr. Cole. After listening to it he hung up and he thought of how to say what was on his mind. "Will you be coming back with me or staying in Avras after the trial date?"

Idrisar lowered his gaze. "I...don't know. I haven't had the chance to consider that yet, but I do need to return eventually and get my son."

Zevian grimaced. He hadn't wanted to bring that up but he knew it was a subject that had to be discussed sooner or later. He'd never been in a long-distance relationship before, but he was willing to try because Blackbird was worth it. He could come and visit every two or three months, and of course Idrisar and any family he might want to bring was always welcome in his home. He doubted Idrisar would want to bring his sons to Oricus though, no matter how much safer it was than the other islands surrounding the Chalice.

"Hey Id...what would you say if I told you I was thinking of giving up my shady ways and making an honest living?"

Idrisar paused in the process of dialing his department to inform Talith he would be testifying at court. He looked as though he suspected a joke. "I would say you're either feverish or drunk," he answered bluntly.

Zevian chuckled, not really surprised by the answer. "But what if you knew I was serious?"

Idrisar walked over to the couch and he bent over to kiss Zevian on the mouth. "I would be concerned you were doing it for me, rather than for yourself. Do you honestly think you could be happy living that sort of life after being a guild lord for so long? You would lose this beautiful home and as much as I hate to say it, you may have trouble finding honest work. The moment they do a background check your potential employers would be reluctant to hire you."

That was a sobering thought. Zevian sighed, knowing Idrisar wasn't pointing out those facts to be mean or discouraging. He was just reminding him of reality for his own good. "Maybe you're right. I guess the only way I could get into a more honest line of work would be to go into business for myself."

He had the money to get started with that if he really wanted to, but the thought of building a whole new business from the ground up was rather daunting. Zevian ran his fingers through Idrisar's soft hair, urging his lips to his own again. Leave it to Blackbird to slap him in the face with reality and get his head out of the clouds.

"Let's not think of that right now," suggested Idrisar when the kiss broke again. He sat down beside Zevian on the couch and he resumed dialing his supervisor. "I know it would be easier if we lived in the same city, but I wouldn't want you to be unhappy, Zev."

Zevian was about to tell him there wasn't a chance of that happening if he was with him, but he couldn't guarantee that. He was used to a certain lifestyle after all, and he had a very specific skill set. "All right kid, I'll drop it for now. Make your call while I go mix us some cocktails."

Idrisar put the phone to his ear and he watched the sire go as Zevian got up from the couch to go to the bar across the room. Zevian heard his soft sigh and he knew the perceptive lifebearer sensed his disappointment, but he couldn't help it. He selected some liqueur from the cabinet and some other ingredients, and he began to blend two servings of tropical cocktail. He nodded at one of his men as the man passed by on security patrol, quite used to sharing his house with them. What would it be like to live alone, though? Or with Idrisar? What would it be like to not have to look over his shoulder for a bullet or knife all the time?

It sounded great in theory, but the guild lord had to admit to himself that he might get bored with such a simple and secure life.

"Maybe I'll take a little trip to Rhuidhim after this," he mused, more to himself than to his guest. Idrisar was speaking with Director Talith and he probably hadn't heard him. He hadn't visited Orindel for a while, though he'd spoken with him over the phone just the other day to assure him everything in Oricus was under control.

* * *

The Wayfarers went and got Tristan's ship from the Harroway docks so that it would be available for him and his crew if they won their case at court. It took a bit of aid from Rhinan to convince the harbormaster to release the vessel and he wasn't very happy with having to manipulate them that way, but the authorities weren't going to give up the Sea Lion otherwise. Antyan left his family to look after things in Zarn while he and his crew brought a group of volunteers to sail the confiscated vessel to New Tariff. While her brother was taking care of that, Aurora reached out to her contacts until she found someone with the ability to hack the Harroway port authority database.

Idrisar was blissfully unaware that someone had sabotaged the files when he took the stand, but it was his observation that the circumstances surrounding Captain Hunter and his crew's arrest sounded suspiciously like entrapment to him. Upon reminding the prosecuting attorney of legal protocols and search warrants, his observation prompted the defense attorney to request evidence that protocol was indeed followed. Upon discovering no warrant in the files the judge dismissed the case as a mistrial, just as Glaive thought he would.

The steps of the Cothmere supreme court were soon overrun by hooting, exuberant pirates as Tristan and his crew were released. Haden got the news the next day and a few days after that, he got further news from Rhiannon.

"Guess what?" She said when she called him up.

"Uh, you're taking up banjo lessons?" teased the knight.

"No, silly. I'm taking up sailing! Like...permanently."

Haden almost dropped the phone. "Wait, what?"

"Uh-huh. Tristan asked me to join his crew, and he broke up with all his other girlfriends. I think he really wants to make a commitment. Isn't that great?"

Haden combed his fingers through his wavy dark locks. "So you're telling me you're basically becoming a pirate for real? That's a dangerous life, Rhia. I mean I'm not going to try to tell you how to live but I think you ought to put some more thought into it."

"I _have_ put a lot of thought into it," she assured him. "I'm not just deciding this on a whim, Haden. I...I love him and I want to be with him. When I'm with him and the crew it feels like we're a family, and I'll miss everyone here in VF but this is what I want to do. I just want my friends to support me and try to understand."

Haden sighed. He did understand love, but he was still worried she might be making a mistake that would be hard to reverse. "Hey, I'm Mister Support, Rhiannon. Doesn't mean I'm not worried about you. I want you to be happy and I know all your other friends do too. I mean joining the Wayfarers isn't something you can just back out of if you decide it's not the life for you. You know that, right?"

"I know," she answered, "and I appreciate you worrying about me. You wouldn't be my friend if you didn't. I just know this is what I want. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Haden shrugged. Oh well...he'd tried. It wasn't in his nature to keep arguing someone's life decisions. "So when are you heading out to sea? We could at least give you a send-off."

Her voice sounded more relaxed. "That would be awesome! We're heading out the Friday after next, so I'm inviting everyone to come to the docks and see us off. Bring Glaive too, okay?"

"Sure," he agreed. "Just remember if you ever get into trouble, you can always call us for help."

"I know. Thanks, Haden."

He could hear the smile in her voice before she hung up, and he hoped to gods she wasn't going to end up regretting her choice.

* * *

As promised, Haden and Glaive arrived on time two weeks later to see Rhiannon off at the docks. Her other friends and some of her coworkers were there as well, and champagne was passed around in plastic glasses for everyone to toast to her. She gave warm hugs to everyone and she got a bit teary eyed, but she held her composure. They waved at her and the crew as Rhiannon boarded the Sea Lion, and Haden couldn't help the sigh that escaped when the ship left the docks.

"Stop worrying so much," Glaive advised him as the gathering began to disperse and people said goodbye to each other. "The Captain's obviously mad about her just as you said. He'll keep her safe and she isn't leaving forever."

"Oh, I know," answered Haden with a sidelong look at his partner. "That wasn't what I was sighing about. Did you _have_ to tell them that arrest paperwork was tampered with?"

"The subject simply came up," excused Glaive. "I didn't do it and you weren't even in the room when I made the call leading up to it. Our arses are covered, love."

"For now," muttered Haden. He knew none of the pirates would go telling the authorities the truth but he worried someone might investigate deeper and discover that database got hacked—and that could lead back to Glaive. "I really hope I don't end up visiting you in jail some day, partner."

"If you do, it will most likely be for public indecency or kicking a coworker's arse," reasoned Glaive with an unconcerned shrug. "This won't come back on me."

"It better not." Haden checked his watch. "We should go get something to eat. Drinking on an empty stomach isn't the best idea."

Glaive's stomach growled at the mention of food and he put an arm around Haden. "Right. The Jolly Whistler's right here by the docks. Let's eat there."

Haden nodded in agreement and together, the two of them made their way to the establishment.

* * *

Idrisar did end up going back to Zarn with Zevian after the trial, but now that things had settled down so much he had to stop procrastinating and return home to Valkyrie Falls. Zevian took him to the airport without argument, but Idrisar could see the regret in his eyes as they embraced in the terminal.

"I'm sorry," whispered the agent into his lover's pointed ear. "I wish that I could stay longer, Zevian."

"You've got a small kid to get back to," murmured the guild lord. He rubbed Idrisar's back as he pulled away to look into his eyes. "And a house and a job. I get that. You don't need to apologize for having obligations, gorgeous."

He brushed the pad of his thumb over Idrisar's lips and the lifebearer kissed it softly. "We knew that this wasn't going to be an easy relationship to have. Are you...having second thoughts?"

Zevian shook his head immediately. "No fucking way. Not a chance you're getting rid of me that easy. I've been chasing after you for too long to give you up over a little distance."

"Well, an ocean isn't really a 'little distance'," reasoned Idrisar with a sad smile. "It isn't as though we live on opposite sides of the same town."

"Doesn't matter. You're stuck with me until you decide you don't want me anymore. We'll make it work, Id."

Idrisar put his arms around the taller man's neck. "I can't see myself not wanting you anymore," he confessed.

Particularly after the night before. Zevian's lovemaking had been particularly passionate, since it was their last evening together. He'd drawn so many moans and cries from Idrisar's lips that it was a wonder his voice wasn't hoarse today. Saber was definitely a talented lover, whether he made use of his spirit singing while intimate or not.

"That's what I want to hear." Zevian's smile was obviously forced. "Just get home to your son and take care of yourself, baby. Maybe I can come visit your town in a couple of months and spend a week with you."

"I would like that," sighed Idrisar. "You're always welcome in my home, no matter what anyone thinks."

Zevian's phone vibrated in his pocket and he reached for it absently. He blinked when he saw the message that came through. "I'll be damned; Azurel had his baby. It's a sire and it's five pounds and three ounces. They named him Hatharol."

"Wonderful," said Idrisar with a smile. "I'm very happy for him. How are Mr. Quartz and his daughter doing?"

"They've got a place in Rhuidhim now and I guess they're doing okay, going by the email I got from him the other day. He's had offers to instruct at the school of sorcery, so at least _he's_ found something legit as a career."

"Good for him." Idrisar started to ask about his mysterious young bodyguard, but they announced that his flight was ready to board. He sighed and he gazed up at the handsome rogue before him. "I'd better go if I'm to get a good seat. I'll call you as soon as I touch down."

"You'd better." Zevian closed the distance between their mouths for one last lingering kiss. "I'll be waiting to hear from you tonight."

With reluctance, Idrisar pulled out of his embrace and he picked up his suitcase. Zevian watched until the Ulvari agent disappeared from sight in the boarding hallway, waving at him one last time when Idrisar paused to look back at him. Blackbird picked out his seat and stowed his carry-on overhead before securing his safety belt and gazing out the window. As the plane took off and carried him away from Oricus and the sire he'd found love again with, Idrisar wondered what the future held for them. He even considered the possibility of moving to Oricus, but that would mean selling his house and raising Seheret in a crime-heavy area.

With a heavy sigh, Idrisar closed his eyes and tried to nap.

* * *

-To be continued


End file.
